


Brushstrokes and Beat Drops

by closetgeekasaurus



Series: Brushstrokes and Beat Drops [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Autistic Pidge | Katie Holt, College, Deaf Character, F/M, Gen, HOH character, M/M, Pining Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, Sort Of, Trans Female Character, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, hard of hearing character, keith is an art major, there's a twist just you wait
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-01-30 10:48:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12652077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetgeekasaurus/pseuds/closetgeekasaurus
Summary: College AU Voltron, where Keith has to struggle with grades, living on his own, the troubles of being trans, as well as having an ongoing rivalry with the anonymous dancer who won't stop blasting their music next door when Keith is trying to just relax and paint. Primarily Keith and Lance-centric, but there will be other chapters with focuses on other characters.





	1. Chapter 1

Keith let out a shaky breath and dragged his brush down the canvas, smearing a streak of red into the lion’s mane. He subconsciously bobbed his head along to Scissor Sisters, already settling into a familiar creative rhythm. This was the reason why he loved coming into the studio in the odd hours of the night to work; not only was he alone and free to work on his personal projects, he could utilize the speaker system, plug his phone into the aux cord, and relax to his own taste in music.

Whenever the class was in session, the professor let the students put on top 40 music, which, needless to say, wasn’t really Keith’s style. Of course, he could always play his music in his own room, but after a while headphones made his ears hurt and he was always worried about annoying his suitemate. Keith was well aware of the fact that he liked his music obscure and loud, and he wasn’t sure how the other guy would feel about that.

He let himself relax and felt a smile pulling at the edges of his lips as he continued to work. He always loved big cats, lions especially, and felt a connection to them. Combined with the aggressiveness of the varying shades of red, he felt like painting the roaring lion was more reflective of his true self than the assigned self-portrait would ever be.

If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t particularly happy with the self-portrait that he had been assigned in class. He felt like the photo he had to reference made him look too young and baby-faced. People already tended to mistake him for an early high school graduate in his freshman year when in reality he was halfway through his sophomore year. It was irritating at best, infuriating at worst. In fact, the only thing more infuriating than being mistaken for a high-schooler was when he heard the telltale notes of pop music start up from the room next door.

He let out an exaggerated groan and dropped his brush into his bucket of solvent. “What kind of weirdo comes out at one in the morning to dance to Rihanna?” He asked the question aloud, as if the empty room and paint stained white walls could answer him.

The only thing he didn’t like about the painting studio? It was pressed right up against a dance studio, and some pop diva had a habit of coming out to practice at the same time Keith was trying to paint. Whoever they were, they always played loud, trashy, hip-gyrating music at volumes so loud the walls rattled at times. Evidently, now was one of those times. Keith could barely hear the guitar of The Offspring over the club music blasting from the next room over.

He stood, pushing his wheeled stool too fast and knocking it over behind him. He let out a sigh and set it upright before marching over to his phone, ready to jack up his own volume, when the song from next door changed to something by Maroon 5. Okay, not as bad.

But the other thing that pissed Keith off about the music from next door?

Whoever used the dance studio could never decide on a song. Rarely did Keith ever hear a song from next door play all the way to the end. He could probably tolerate the music easier if whoever was playing it actually let a damn song play for more than 45 seconds.

The music changed again, almost right on cue, and Keith groaned again. He turned the music on his phone up to the point where the only thing he could hear from next door was a bassline; which, of course, meant that Keith’s own music was loud enough that it would carry to the other room.

Just as he was about to sit back down and continue working, the music from the studio started up even louder. He could at least still hear his own music, but it was soured for him by the cries of “dance ‘til you’re dead!” ringing out over top of the vocals. He stood again with a grunt and turned his music up even louder. It was basically throbbing at this point, and if he was being honest it was kind of hitting his ears the wrong way, right on the verge of being too loud for comfort. He was willing to risk getting a headache as long as it meant he didn’t have to listen to whatever pop music was being blasted from next door.

He didn’t even have the chance to sit down before his music was drowned out again.

He let out a wordless shriek and ripped the aux cord out of his phone, leaving only the rolling bass of club music pounding through the room. He could even feel it through the soles of his feet.

“I can’t work like this,” he muttered to himself, rapidly swirling his brushes through the tub of solvent and drying them off on a paint stained rag. “Stupid bubblegum pop bimbo, why can’t you dance at normal hours?” Of course, that also posed the valid question of why didn’t he paint at normal hours, but he wasn’t going to mentally address that. Part of the reason he had come here when he did is because he had never known whoever used the dance studio to stay this late, and was hoping that maybe he’d be free to enjoy his time in peace, but evidently he just couldn’t catch a break.

He put his supplies in his locker with a scowl etched onto his face, head throbbing from a combination of irritation and too-loud music. He closed it with more force than was necessary, satisfied at the metallic slam that the door made. After stomping back into the main room to grab his bag and flip off the wall that the dance studio was attached to, he pushed open the exit door and stepped out into the cool night air.

He took a deep breath to try and clear his head, already feeling slightly calmer now that he was away from the source of his anger. One of these nights he was going to march over to that damn studio and give whoever was always blasting the music a piece of his mind. But tonight? Not the time. He just wanted to go back to his dorm, doodle some portraits on sticky notes, take an Advil and go to bed.

He was only mildly surprised to come back to his room and see his suitemate was still up. Warm yellow light spilled out from under the crack of the door, and he could hear his deep voice murmuring. He paused, and Keith heard the high melodic British accent that he had learned was the voice of his suitemate’s girlfriend. Shiro’s girlfriend. He really had to stop thinking of the guy as just “his suitemate”, it was kinda rude with how nice he was to Keith. He always offered to drive Keith to the store and was always sharing snacks and takeout with him as well. He was genuinely a good guy.

If Keith had been through whatever Shiro had, he didn’t think he would’ve come out of it nearly as nice. Hell, even without the trauma he was infinitely more of an ass that Shiro could ever be.

The screams that he sometimes heard from Shiro’s room at night still made him nauseous.

He shook his head, mentally reprimanding himself for standing there staring at Shiro’s door and thinking about things that were beyond his control. He sighed and turned around to close the main door. As he was twisting the lock, he heard Shiro peek out from his room.

“Oh, hey Keith. You’re getting in late. Everything ok?”

Keith turned to half-smile back at Shiro. The older man was in a white t-shirt and sweatpants, and had already taken off his prosthetic. Keith felt his eyes flit to the scarred stump peeking out of the shirt sleeve, surprised that Shiro had come out without it; he hadn’t said so, but Keith was pretty sure that Shiro was insecure about it and didn’t like being seen without his prosthetic on. He didn’t let himself stare, and instead redirected his eyes to the spot between Shiro’s eyes, right above the gnarly scar on his face.

“Yeah, I was just in the studio painting.”

“Let me guess, that one dancer was there again?” Shiro asked with a laugh.

Keith groaned and nodded. “I’m so sick of hearing all this, this, dance music! I just want to relax.” He buried his face in his hands.

Shiro clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Maybe you should learn to relax to dance music?”

Keith stared icily at him, much to Shiro’s amusement. “No thanks. Anyway, I’m heading to bed.”

“Okay. Sleep good, I’ll try to keep it down.” He disappeared back into his own room, leaving Keith standing in the kitchenette, wondering if Shiro was up because of more nightmares, and hoping that he actually got decent sleep tonight.

He yawned and unlocked his own door, lazily fumbling for the lightswitch and flicking it on. His room was pristine as usual, so there wasn't much for him to do besides crawl into bed and try to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance decides to flirt with a barista that he's had his eye on for a few months

“I’m telling you man, if I have to come into the studio and hear emo indie shit one more time, I’m going to spontaneously combust.”

Hunk snorted and continued scribbling solutions to equations on his worksheet, not even bothering to look up at Lance. “Have you considered asking them to like, take turns? Or work out some kind of music schedule?”

“Uh, no?” Lance dipped a tortilla chip into a bowl of cheese sauce and jammed the whole chip into his mouth, smearing cheese onto the corners of his lips in the process. “I even tried going in at one in the morning and they were still there!” He spoke with his mouth full, causing Pidge to grimace.

“Dude, that’s gross,” she chided, tossing a wadded-up ball of paper at him.

“What’s gross about going in at one in the morning?” He asked after swallowing his food.

“Not that, I meant you showing off your chewed-up food. Close your mouth, asshole.”

“Close your mouth, asshole,” he mocked in a falsetto. Pidge threw a mechanical pencil at him which he narrowly dodged with a shriek. “Dude! You could have scarred me or something!”

“I could only hope,” she teased with a sigh. Lance put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Pass the chips, loser,” she demanded, leaning over and holding out her hands for both the bag of chips and the bowl of sauce. He complied, flopping back onto his bed immediately afterwards.

“I just wanna jam in peace,” he said, trying his best to sound pitiful but not whiny.

“That sucks,” Hunk said, chewing on his eraser. Pidge determined that Lance’s complaining didn’t even warrant a response. Lance sat back up and stared at the two of them with narrowed eyes.

“You’re not even gonna take any pity on me? None at all?”

“No, Lance.” Pidge crammed a handful of chips in her mouth and shook her head.

“If you wanna twerk to Beyonce just find a time where the art hipster isn’t there,” Hunk suggested. “Either that or actually talk to them and work something out.”

“Absolutely not,” Lance said while crossing his arms. “I dance, my music takes top priority over someone who’s just painting. It’s not like I can wear headphones!”

“He offers solutions and you reject them, why should we be pitying you again?” Pidge finally glanced up from her laptop to raise an eyebrow at Lance. He groaned and hopped off his bed.

“You two are the worst.”

“Yep,” Hunk said cheerfully, smiling up at Lance. “Now are you gonna do your algebra homework before it’s due, or are you gonna skip class again so you can put off the work for another two days?”

Lance grumbled and rolled his eyes. “Class is in thirty minutes and I haven’t even started the work. You really think I’m going in?”  
Hunk sighed and shook his head. “Dude, you’re gonna get in trouble.”

“Like he cares. He’ll talk his way out of it again.” Pidge grabbed her laptop and opened it up. “That’s one thing I’ll give him credit for, he sure can run his mouth.” She grinned up at him and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

“You’re both so mean to me,” Lance said with a pout. “I’m gonna go to the Starbucks and get something loaded with sugar, and I’m gonna sit there and do my algebra homework.”

“You just want to flirt with that barista,” Pidge muttered.

“That too,” Lance said. “You guys want anything?”

“If you come back before my class, bring me something with a ton of caffeine?” Pidge asked.

“Sure thing, Pidgey.” He shot finger guns at her, twisted, grabbed his wallet off his desk, and headed out the door.

It was a beautiful day out; Lance was glad that it was finally starting to cool down. Living in Florida had its perks with the whole “eternal summer” thing, but if he was being honest he was more than pleased it was finally starting to feel like autumn. Neither he nor Hunk were looking forward to when the temperature was going to start dropping down much lower than mid-50’s. Pidge, from Minnesota, called them both island weaklings and said they didn’t know what real winter was. As much as he pretended to be insulted by it, Lance had to agree; he was spoiled by year round warm weather. Sure, he’d love to see snow and have a “real Christmas” up north, but who didn’t? If he could have it without it being freezing cold, he’d be fantastic.

Regardless, he was happy with the weather he did have. It was the kind of day that you could wear anything you wanted and be comfortable; it was balmy and sunny, with only a few wispy clouds in the sky and a decent breeze. He was taking advantage of it and wearing his favorite jacket and pair of jeans, the ones with the holes in the knees from so much wear and tear. He felt like he looked pretty good in it, which was important if he was going to try and actually flirt with the barista today.

Normally Lance had no qualms or problems with flirting. It was instinctual by this point, Lance had been a charmer since he first learned to talk and been flirting since his balls dropped. But for some reason, there was something different about the barista that left Lance tongue-tied any time he tried to say anything, including his stupid coffee order. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Maybe it was the fact the barista was a guy; at least, Lance was pretty sure he was a guy, and Lance didn’t tend to flirt with guys as much as he did girls due to the fear of rejection and homophobia. Or maybe it was that sourpuss look that he always had on his face, full lips pursed and turned down at the edges like he had just bitten into a lemon. He always had on the standard Starbucks uniform, but Lance would bet all the money in his wallet the guy was probably a punk on his days off; he oozed attitude and rebellion and wore it like a second skin. He was definitely different from Lance’s usual type of guy, but there was something about him that sent Lance’s heart thundering in his chest. Probably that little sprout of a ponytail, or the determined set of his jaw that hinted he could do anything he set his mind to.

He let out an exaggerated sigh as he pulled open the door to the campus Starbucks, glad that it wasn’t too busy. He never knew what it was going to be like at this time of the day. Sometimes the line stretched out the door, and other times it was like a ghost town. A handful of patrons were seated at tables throughout the café and a couple girls were in line, but it made for a nice atmosphere.

He held his breath until he saw the barista behind the counter with his familiar black ponytail sticking out from the back of his cap. Lance grinned like a fool and got into line, bouncing on the balls of his feet and running over pickup lines and potential conversation starters in his head. His turn in line couldn’t come soon enough.

Until, of course, he was face-to-face with the cute barista, then his turn had come much too quickly.

“Welcome to Starbucks, what can I get for you?” he droned, eyes flickering between Lance’s face and the cash register.

“Um,” Lance managed to spit out, feeling words collecting in his throat, thick and mucus-y. Fuck, what happened to his carefully constructed plan? His endless reservoir of pickup lines? His ability to speak nonjumbled English?

The barista raised an eyebrow at him, fingers poised above the register. “Are you going to order?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry. A uh, vanilla latte?”

“Okay.” He punched the order into the register, eyes focused downwards. “Anything else?”

“Um, could I also get… your number?” Lance gulped and jammed his hands into his pants pockets. The barista’s head snapped up and he stared at Lance, finally making eye contact. Lance saw a spark of something in the other boy’s eyes, and for a split second felt his heart leap with excitement- he was interested! That is, until Lance took in the twist of his mouth and the furrow of his eyebrows, then realized that the barista’s look wasn’t a spark of interest, but a flicker of irritation.

“I’m a boy,” he said flatly. Ah, so that answered that question.

“I know!” Lance said quickly. “I knew that,” he insisted, reaching up to tug at a piece of his hair. “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to offend you,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” the barista responded. “No, it’s uh, I thought you thought I was- it’s nothing. Um. A vanilla latte is all, right?”

Lance’s face fell. Damn, he struck out. “Yeah, that’s all.” He got out his wallet and handed over a five dollar bill.

He couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh as he walked away from the counter to find a table. He had been admiring the barista since the start of the semester, and to be rejected now that he had finally worked up the courage to ask for more than a coffee was more than disheartening, to say the least.

He was too busy wallowing in self-pity to notice the barista walking towards him until he was stopped right in front of Lance’s table.

“Here’s your latte,” he said, startling Lance before setting the cup gently on the table. “I won’t give you my number, but, uh… my name is Keith,” he said, voice dropping in volume. “Maybe if you ask again in a couple weeks I’ll consider giving it to you,” he finished in a mumble. He stood awkwardly by the table for a few moments before nodding and turning to head back behind the counter.

Lance stared at Keith in disbelief as he walked away. It wasn’t until the other boy disappeared into the back room before Lance let himself grin, then start laughing with glee. Man, today really was his lucky day!

“Forget algebra homework, I have to go tell Hunk and Pidge,” he muttered to himself, fighting off giggles. He grabbed his cup and rushed out of the café, a new spring in his step that had been missing before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Pidge have a chat. Pidge learns some things.

Pidge shrieked and nearly fell off her bed when Lance threw open the door to their room. “Pidge holy fuck!” He crowed, shutting the door behind him with an even louder slam. “Guess what?”

“You got me an espresso?”

“No! Even better!”

“Two espressos?” She slammed her laptop shut and scrambled to the foot of her bed, ready to accept incoming cups from Lance.

“No, I didn’t get you anything to drink, sorry.”

Her face soured and she scooted back into her bed, already grabbing for her laptop again. “You disappoint me. Got me all worked up and then you didn’t even bring me coffee.”

“I’m sorry, Pidgey,” he said, dropping his backpack into his desk chair. “I was too excited to remember. But, like I was saying, guess what?”

“You got your homework done?”

“Oh, that?” He waved his hand. “Pssh, no. I didn’t even take it out of my bag.” Pidge groaned and rolled her eyes. “But this is way better than finishing my homework. You know the cute barista?”

“He was working today and you got too busy staring at him to focus on anything else?”

“His name is Keith,” Lance said with a grin, waiting for Pidge to realize the implications behind what he was saying.

“Keith? That’s kind of- wait, oh my god, you actually talked to him?” She sat up straight again, pushing her laptop off to the side. Lance nodded and felt his smile stretch even wider. “Dude, that’s great! I’m happy for you. So lemme guess, you have a hot date coming up?”

“Nope,” Lance said, popping the ‘p’. He bent over and opened their fridge, grabbing a can of soda from the rack and replacing it with another from the carton on the floor.

“So you got his number then?” Pidge held out her hand for a can. Lance handed her the one that was in his hands before getting a second one for himself.

“He wouldn’t give it to me.”

Pidge stared at him in confusion. “So… why are you so excited? I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to get so excited over rejection, which… him refusing to give you his number sounds a hell of a lot like rejection.”

“He said if I asked again in a couple weeks, he’d consider giving it to me.” He cracked open his soda and took a long sip, wiggling his eyebrows at Pidge. “He was totally flirting with me, playing hard to get.”

Pidge snorted. “For your sake, I hope he didn’t say that to get you off his back and plans on quitting his job before then.”

Lance’s jaw dropped in horror. “Oh god, Pidge, what if that was his plan? Jesus, he’s probably straight, when I asked for a number he got all pissy and said he was a guy, and-“

“Whoa, whoa, calm down. It was a joke. I’m sure he wouldn’t do that, especially since he gave you his name. And if he does do that? Then he’s an ass and you’ll find someone better, okay?”

”Yeah, but why would he tell me he’s a guy?” He hopped up onto his own bed and kicked off his shoes, letting them fall and clatter to the floor.

“Weren’t you a little unsure of him being a guy yourself? And you said he has a ponytail, and, if I remember, ‘thick thighs that could end lives’. He’s probably used to being mistaken for a girl. Plus, no offense, you kinda look like a token straight guy, TM.” Pidge shifted so that she was laying on her stomach, feet dangling in the air behind her.

“Point,” Lance agreed, feeling relief rush through him. “Jeez, I hope this works out. I’m going through a real dry spell here.”

”Ew, TMI,” Pidge yelled and threw a rainbow heart-shaped pillow at Lance before bursting into giggles. “I don’t wanna hear about your blue-balls.”

“Not that kind of dry spell!” He laughed. “Although if we’re being honest I’m going through one of those too.”

“I _just_ said that I don’t wanna hear about your balls!” She let out another chuckle before her face flattened out into an expression of seriousness. “Hey, I gotta ask you something.”

“Sure man, what’s up?” He looked up from his phone, suddenly attentive.

“I already talked to Hunk about it but I wanted to get your permission too. Uh, do you care if I hang my stuff from Pride?”

“Sure, I don’t mind at all.” He went back to scrolling through his phone.

“Even… uh… jeez, even a big trans pride flag?”

He looked up and raised an eyebrow at her. “Only if I can hang a poster of Beyonce on the outside of our closet door.”

She burst out laughing again, stiff body posture dissolving into respite. “You’re not weirded out? Or surprised? Oh jeez is it really obvious that I’m trans? What gave it away?”

He couldn’t help but snort. “Pidge, no offense, but you’re a girl rooming with two cis guys. They normally don’t do that unless you’re trans. So no, it’s not that you don’t pass, which even if you didn’t it wouldn’t matter, you’d still be a girl.”

”And you’re not weirded out?” She repeated, tense again and wringing her hands.

Lance sighed and pulled up a photo on his phone before hopping off his bed and crossing the room to Pidge. “This is me and my sister before I left for college,” he said, showing her the photo.

“Um, ok? Oh wow, you guys look really similar.”

“That’s because she’s my twin sister. As in, identical twins.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting fruitlessly for Pidge to connect the dots.

“If you’re trying to imply something you’re gonna have to tell me. You know how I am,” she said.

“Identical twins are born identical in every way? And I’m a cis dude? Which means that my _identical twin sister_ is…?”

Pidge’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Oh! She’s trans?”

“Yep! Bingo, you got it, congratulations.” He grinned and swiped to another photo of the two of them on the beach, arms around each other and skin practically glowing in the summer sun. Lance was wearing light blue and white striped swim trunks that popped against the dark tones of his skin, and his sister was wearing a bikini top that matched it with a pair of denim shorts. Her hair had grown out to her shoulder blades in the photo and her smile shone brightly with straight white teeth. Lance smiled at the memory of that day, as well as at thoughts of his sister. “I may be biased, but she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Lance told Pidge proudly.

“She’s gorgeous. She looks cis,” Pidge said wistfully. “Do you know how she got her chest to look like that in a bikini top? Not to be weird, I just, uh, I wanna wear more girly lowcut stuff and not look like a twelve year old.”

“She got a boob job,” Lance said with a shrug. “But hey! I can text her and ask if she still has all her special push-up bras and boob insert things, maybe she can mail them to you.”

Pidge’s eyes glittered with excitement. “You think she’d do that? You’d do that for me?”

“Hell yeah, Pidgey.” He reached up to ruffle her hair. “What’re friends for?”

She reached out to pull him into a hug that felt more like a tackle, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck and smashing his face into her chest from the height difference of him standing and her sitting on the high-rise bed. He laughed and quickly wrapped his arms around her in response.

“Fuck, I love hugs,” he groaned into Pidge’s hoodie. “Have you hugged Hunk? He gives the best hugs. Except for my mom, she’ll always be number one at hugs.” His voice was muffled from a mouthful of fabric but he was certain it was clear enough for Pidge to understand.

She let him go and pulled away, cheeks pink and looking bashful. “Sorry! I know I’m not normally a hugger, I just got really happy.”

”I’m not complaining! I literally just said that I love hugs. But have you?”

”Have I what?”

”Hugged Hunk.”

”Not yet. Should I? Would he be uncomfortable?”

”Oh no way, he loves hugs too. He’s mentioned before that he wants to hug you like, all the time because you look huggable apparently? And he says that you look like you need more hugs in your life. But he never sees you being touchy-feely so he doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or whatever.”

“I’m gonna hug the shit out of him,” Pidge said with a determined clench to her jaw. Lance burst into wild laughter. “Hey, how do you guys know so much about each other?” Pidge asked.

“We grew up together,” Lance explained. “He was a big softie that never stood up for himself and I was a scrawny little twig that tried to fight his bullies. Hunk won’t fight for himself, but oh man, if someone he cares about gets hurt, he goes wild. But yeah, we met in elementary school and have been best friends ever since. He’s like, my platonic soulmate.”

“He’s from Cuba too?”

”No, he moved there in the third grade. He’s Samoan.”

”So you guys are really close, huh?”

“Super close,” Lance said. “Ask me anything, I know everything about him.”

“Um… what’s his favorite color?”

”Yellow. Like, sunshine, or butter, or any of the pretty happy yellows. It suits him, don’t you think?”

”It does,” Pidge agreed quietly. “Can I ask you something a little more personal?”

”Sure. If it’s, like, too personal about him I won’t answer without his permission though.”

“I was just wondering if he was involved with someone.”

”No, not right now, why?”

The tips of Pidge’s ears turned pink, which didn’t escape Lance’s notice. He decided not to say anything about it, though. “I see him up late at night on Skype sometimes, but he’s never talking, always using sign language or something. I didn’t know if it was like, a girlfriend.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s his niece.”

”Wh- his niece? He’s an uncle?”

”We both are. But yeah, he’s really close to that niece. They’re only like, three years apart and both HOH.”

“HOH?” Pidge echoed, tilting her head.

Lance turned back to her with surprise. “Hard of hearing. You didn’t know?”

“He’s deaf?” Pidge asked, eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs as they shot up towards her hairline.

“Not deaf, but he has really bad hearing. You literally never noticed the hearing aids?”

”No!” Pidge buried her face in her hands. “Oh my god, I feel like an ass, I just thought he ignored me at times because I was blabbering.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh. “He’d never purposefully ignore anyone. He probably had his hearing aids turned down, or off, or wasn’t wearing them or something.”

“Jesus, I feel stupid.”

”Don’t,” Lance told her. “He works really hard so that people don’t notice, Hunk will probably be happy you didn’t notice.”

“So he knows sign language?”

“Yup.” Lance wandered over to his desk, figuring he should probably work on that algebra while he chatted with Pidge.

“Do you?”

“Yeah, and we both know Spanish too.”

”Do you think you could try to maybe teach me?”

“Sign language or Spanish?” He asked, dropping the textbook onto the desk with disdain. “Because I could probably try to teach you either.”

”Sign language. I know a little bit of Spanish from high school.” Lance heard the telltale clicking of her laptop keys start up; he didn’t know what she was always doing on her computer but whatever it was, it seemed to require her attention about seventy percent of the time.

“Yeah, I can try. It takes time though. Do you know how to do the alphabet?”

”I don’t know any of it,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Ok, starting from scratch then. I can work with that. Yeah, we can start this weekend if you want, we should both have time then. Hunk could probably help you too if you wanted.”

”This weekend sounds good.”

“Okay, cool. Just make sure to remind me so I don’t forget.”

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence for several minutes as they toiled away at their respective projects before Pidge spoke up again.

“Hey, thanks Lance. You’re a lot cooler than I gave you credit for. I’m glad I got stuck with you as a roommate.”

Lance grinned and felt his chest swell with elation. “Thanks, and it’s no problem. I’m glad I got stuck with you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the HOH Hunk headcanon and you can pry it from my cold dead hands.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Shiro eat some takeout and learn about each other's families. Keith is invited to a dinner party.

Keith groaned and collapsed into his chair, throwing his stupid Starbucks hat onto his desk. He hated his job, absolutely despised it with a passion, but he desperately needed the money and it was a slightly better option than resorting to stripping. He was still looking for something better, but until he found it he wasn’t going to throw away a job where he was making perfectly good money.

His stomach gurgled angrily, as if to chide him for having only eaten a granola bar that morning and nothing since. He bent over to untie his shoes and set them next to his bed; one thing he really needed to invest in was a better pair for work so that his feet didn’t hurt so much at the end of his shifts. That, and a better cellphone.

Remembering his plans to save for a decent phone brought a smile to his face- not at the promise of a phone with a battery that lasted more than 4 hours and didn’t have a shattered screen, but at the thought of who might be texting him on it. He grinned at the memory of the cute boy’s fumbling flirtations. That was one perk about Keith’s job, he got to look at cute boys. Apparently cute boys looked at him, too. Cute boys who actually thought that Keith was a boy too.

He wrapped his arms around his torso and squirmed in his seat, thrilled that he was being viewed as a guy, and being flirted with by other boys who weren’t mistaking him for a girl. He knew that deciding to keep his hair longer was a little more of an unusual choice, and knew it came with the risk of being misgendered, but he hated how he looked even more than usual when his hair was short. It just didn’t suit him; he had tried once, gotten a haircut that wasn’t too different from Shiro’s and let it grow into a fuckboy-looking style, and it just wasn’t him. The whole grungy rocker thing he had going on now fit him infinitely better.

His phone chimed and he picked it up, perplexed as to who could be texting him, seeing as not many people had his number. He unlocked the screen and opened his messages to see a text from Shiro.

_Hey im picking up some Chinese takeout for dinner do you want anything? My treat :)_

Keith stared at the message, still confused as to why Shiro was always so nice to him. His stomach growled again, reminding him of how hungry he was as well as the lack of food in their fridge.

_Sure, if you don’t mind. Some beef and broccoli with white rice? And maybe dumplings if you want to share an order._

He slumped in his chair, feeling his back creak from the stress of standing upright all day. Yeah, those new shoes were definitely high on his list of things to buy.

_Sure thing! I'll be home in thirty mins_

Keith shoved the phone back in his pocket and grabbed his sketchbook, flipping it open to a random blank page. He picked up a pencil and started sketching in a jawline, determined to try and get a decent sketch of the guy who had flirted with him. Fuck, Keith didn’t even know the guy’s name. Why hadn’t he asked? Oh well, he was going to be stuck in Keith’s head as ‘cute guy’ until he had something else to call him.

He contemplated taking off his binder, then remembered that Shiro was probably going to want to hang out with Keith while they ate. Yeah, no, they weren’t good enough friends for Keith to be that comfortable around him yet. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if Shiro knew that he was trans. It wasn’t like Keith displayed it, but he didn’t go to great lengths to hide it from Shiro either. There had been menstrual hygiene stuff in their bathroom trash, and Keith had accidentally dropped a sports bra in the entryway when he was coming back from doing his laundry, which surely Shiro must have seen since he came home before Keith realized he had even dropped it. Oh well. It wasn’t like it mattered. Shiro treated him like a guy and had never once made any allusions to Keith not being a real man, which was all that mattered in Keith’s books.

Keith still hadn’t gotten a decent sketch of cute boy by the time Shiro came in the front door; the nose was off in every single doodle. Something about it was almost impossible to get down on paper- it was sharp, but not gawky, and Keith couldn’t quite make the distinction with his pencil. The sketches were ok, but in Keith’s mind they weren’t good. They would’ve been better if he could capture the brightness of the other boy’s smile, but the liveliness of it was elusive as well. He was so engrossed in trying to draw it correctly that he didn’t notice Shiro walking in and stopping behind him.

“Who are you drawing?” The older man asked, leaning over Keith’s shoulder. Keith lurched in his seat and turned, pencil held like a weapon and pointed right at Shiro’s neck. Shiro just blinked and took a step back. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Sorry,” Keith parroted back. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I knocked, but you didn’t answer, and when I poked my head in here you were so concentrated I didn’t wanna say anything. These are really good,” Shiro said, leaning forward again. “He looks kind of familiar- wait, is that Lance?”

“I don’t know,” Keith said with a shrug. “It’s just some guy who flirted with me at work today.”

“That sounds like Lance.”

“He was cute. Asked for a vanilla latte, and my number.”

Shiro laughed. “That’s definitely Lance. Did you give it to him?”

“No. I gave him my name though, and told him to try again another time. Should I have denied him completely?”

“No, he’s a good kid from what I’ve seen. Kind of a goofball though. Sounds like you have a crush,” he said, grinning and setting the bag of takeout on the opposite side of Keith’s desk.

“I do not,” Keith insisted, feeling the tips of his ears heat up with a flame of embarrassment. “He was just cute is all.”

“Mm, I’ll give you that. He’s a good-looking guy, and he knows it too.”

“How do you know him, anyway?” Keith reached into the bag and started pulling out containers and utensils. “Aw sweet, you did get dumplings. Thanks man.”

“No problem. And you remember my friend Matt, right? He’s roommates with Matt’s little sister. He also takes one of Allura’s classes and they dance together sometimes.”

“Matt has a little sister?”

“Yeah, her names Katie. She’s the spitting image of him, apparently they both got their looks from their mom. Nice lady, I’ve met her a few times. She makes good roast beef, Matt had me over for Thanksgiving last year,” Shiro explained.

“Why didn’t you go home for Thanksgiving?” Keith asked. He knew Shiro had family, he had mentioned a mom and holidays with her before.

“I wasn’t going to fly all the way back to Japan for a holiday we don’t even celebrate,” he said with a wry smile. “My mom told me to just stay here, and my _haha_ said I should find a nice white American family to take care of me while I lived here,” he said with a laugh.

“ _Haha_? What’s that?”

“It’s Japanese for mother. I have two moms,” he clarified, grabbing his own box of food. “I’m adopted.”

“Oh,” Keith said, quietly surprised. “I didn’t know. That’s pretty cool that you have two moms.”

“Yeah, it just means twice the nagging. But twice the care, too,” he said, smiling gently. “What about you? You have any family around? You’re from Arizona, right?”

Keith nodded. “Yeah, I’m from Arizona, but I don’t really have any family. My mom’s parents died before I was born and she was an only child. My dad’s family didn’t want anything to do with him after he married my mom. Mom died when I was little, and he left a few years after, so.” Keith shrugged. It still bothered him, but at least he didn’t stay up crying half the night about it anymore.

“That’s rough, buddy. Everyone needs someone. Do you mind if I ask why your dad’s family dropped him because of your mom?”

“He was Korean, she was Mexican, and they were racist. Simple as that.” He dug his fork into his food and took a huge bite of beef. It was good, and he hummed in appreciation.

“Yikes. I wish people weren’t like that. I’m sorry about your family.”

“S’fine,” Keith assured him. “I’ve got by on my own for years, it doesn’t bug me anymore.”

“That’s good at least. But if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know, ok? Like I said, everyone needs someone to look out for them.” He patted Keith’s shoulder. “And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see you kind of like a little brother.”

Keith felt a strange mix of affection and fear swirl through his chest like a riptide. When he was younger he had always wanted someone to take him in like Shiro was trying to do, but as he got older he learned the world didn’t work like that. The world was hard and cruel and cold, and even when someone came along that had good intentions, Keith was always too prickly, too emotionally stunted and inarticulate to connect to anyone and let them get close. Yet here was Shiro, with no ulterior motives, trying to look out for Keith.

Keith rubbed his index finger across the pad of his thumb, then cracked his knuckles. “Thanks,” he said finally. “I appreciate that. You’ve already done a lot for me, and I’m not really…”

“Used to that?”

“Yeah. So, uh… thanks.” He took another bite of his food to avoid having to say anything else. Jesus, today was certainly a whirlwind of emotions that he wasn’t used to having. He prayed to whatever deity existed that Shiro didn’t try to continue with the deep emotional conversation, because if he did, Keith was pretty sure he was going to have an aneurysm. “So, uh, what did you do today?”

“Went to classes, graded some papers for Iverson, hung out with Matt at the smoothie café down the street for a while we did some homework, and then got dinner and came home. You?”

“Went to the gym. Came back and showered, then went to work, then came back here. Not very eventful.”

Shiro nodded and ate some more of his own food. “Mm, speaking of eventful, Allura’s making a big dinner Friday night and wants to know if you wanna come eat with us.”

“I wouldn’t be crashing your date?” Keith asked. There was nothing he hated more than third-wheeling.

“Nah. Matt will be there too, and maybe Katie if she ever gets around to texting Matt back about it. And Allura’s godfather is helping cook so he’ll be there.”

“What’s the occasion? Should I dress nice?”

“There’s not really an occasion, she just felt like having a get-together. And no, just dress like normal.”

“Sure, I’ll come,” Keith said, reaching for his pencil to scribble the info on the corner of the page of doodles of cute boy- Lance. “What time?”

“Be ready by 6, I’ll take you.”

“Ok, thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem at all. We’re all glad to have you. Personally, I don’t think you get out enough,” Shiro admitted with a laugh. “You’re always cooped up in here by yourself, at work, or in class.”

“I take my classes seriously,” Keith said. “Is that a problem?” It would be a problem if he wasn’t taking his work seriously; the only reason Keith was in college was because of his scholarships, and if he let his GPA drop below a 3.5 he would lose one and wouldn’t be able to pay to keep attending. Even with the scholarships he still ended up having to take out a loan, something that made him extremely uncomfortable. His job wasn’t just to pay for anything that came up in his expenses, but also to obsessively put money away and start paying off his debts as soon as possible.

“No, not at all, but you have to have a little fun sometimes.” He raised an eyebrow. “I was like you when I first came to college, but I let myself get burnt out by working too hard and not taking time for myself. You just have to learn to balance everything out.”

Keith nodded. Shiro had a point. He was older and had been through this before, so he probably had a better idea of what to do than Keith did. “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind. Maybe I’ll join a club or something.”

They both knew Keith was too reserved and confrontational to join a club unless someone else dragged him to it, but they both smiled and nodded as if it was something that was going to happen.

They continued to eat together, keeping the conversation light and casual. They discussed work and classes, interesting things they had seen on campus and what they’d been doing in their free time. Keith hesitantly brought up his paintings- both the self portrait and the one of the red lion, and Shiro was intrigued. Keith promised to let Shiro accompany him to the studio sometime in the next week so that they could hang out and Shiro could see Keith’s work.

“Well,” Shiro said, standing and gathering up the empty takeout containers. “I should head to the gym myself. Thanks for eating with me, Keith.”

“No problem. Thanks for getting the food, have a good workout.”

Shiro raised a hand in goodbye and left with a grin, shutting Keith’s bedroom door behind him. Keith let out a deep breath and stared at the closed door, brain still feeling like it had been swirled through a whirlpool. After a few minutes of simply sitting there, he decided it would probably be best to take a shower and unwind before heading to bed within the next few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont worry, im not going to make anyone talk in poorly done google translate "native" language and i can assure you that "haha" does in fact mean mother/parent in japanese  
> i really appreciate feedback and if anyone has any suggestions, criticism, or even ideas for little bits to add into the story id love to hear it. Thanks for the comments and kudos that ive gotten so far :)   
> also please point out any errors you notice with formatting or typos because my computer hates my guts,,,,


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith goes to dinner at Allura's house and makes a new friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> longer chapter to make up for not having posted yesterday

Keith glanced over at the clock, turning over the corner of the page to mark his spot in his book when he saw what time it was. Shiro told him to be ready for Allura’s dinner party by six and it was 5:45. Keith had been taking advantage of his day off by lounging around in his pajamas and reading for the entirety of the afternoon. Sure, it wasn’t very exciting, but it was certainly relaxing. Shiro said the dress code was casual, but Keith didn’t think anybody would appreciate him showing up in sweatpants and a tanktop.

He dropped his book among the blankets and hopped down, not bothering to pull the sheets back up and make the bed. He let out a tiny yawn and pulled off his shirt, tossing it in a corner of the room to deal with later. He stripped off his sweatpants and left them in the middle of his floor, opened his closet doors, and stood naked, staring at the clothes hanging inside. The weather was starting to get cooler; he decided he should probably wear something layered so that he was comfortable but wouldn’t get too hot. Maybe his red varsity jacket? Yeah, definitely, with a black t-shirt and his black ripped skinny jeans. He could decide on his shoes later, he was probably just going to wear his combat boots.

He pulled on his clean binder, then his shirt, then his jeans, opting to go commando. He ran his fingers through his hair and shook it out before pulling the dark red jacket on. Perfect; he was ready with minimal effort required on his part.

He picked his book back up to read for the few minutes before Shiro turned up, engrossed in the plot. He was reading _The Murder on the Orient Express,_ another murder mystery. Shiro was actually the one who recommended it to him after noticing his tastes in literature, saying that Keith would probably enjoy it. It had taken a few weeks before Keith had the time to start a new novel as well as remember the name of the book, but now that he had started it he was hooked.

Shiro knocked on Keith’s door and pushed it open with a smile. True to his word, he was dressed casually in a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt with long purple sleeves. “Hey Keith,” he said, drawing the other boy’s attention. “You ready to go?”

Keith nodded while folding the corner of the page. He stood and tucked the book into his back pocket, just in case he got an opportunity to read while he was at Allura’s. “Yeah. Do you know what we’re having for dinner?”

“No idea. Allura said it was a surprise. Let’s go find out.” He waved a hand, beckoning Keith to follow him. “She promised it would be good, though.”

“I hope so,” Keith said, closing his door behind him. “It’s a home-cooked meal, though, so it’s bound to be better than what I normally eat.”

“True,” Shiro chuckled. Keith’s dining plan only covered 10 meals a week, and both of them knew that for the remainder of his meals he survived off of Starbucks, takeout, and junk food. Keith almost never turned down an opportunity for food, either. Shiro made him scrambled eggs with cheese one afternoon and was startled by how enthusiastically Keith wolfed it down. He was horrified to learn that Keith never experienced anyone making him a real home-cooked meal and wanted to rectify the situation, but he wasn’t much of a cook himself. Allura’s get-together was a perfect solution, as well as having the added benefit of Keith finally getting to hang out with the two people who were closest to Shiro.

“Do you have any plans for the holidays?” Shiro asked as they walked down the stairs. “I was actually going to fly into Japan to visit my parents.”

“Not really,” Keith admitted. “I never do much.”

“Do you at least have somewhere to stay during the break? You know you have to pay extra money to live in the dorms over break, right?”

“I know,” Keith sighed. “I’m probably going to have to shell out the 300 dollars again this year, I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

Shiro frowned, the faint worry line between his eyebrows deepening into a crease. “You know, I could talk to Allura. I’m sure she’d be happy to let you stay at her place during the holidays.”

“I couldn’t ask that of her,” Keith protested. “Didn’t you say she’s crazy about Christmas? I wouldn’t want to intrude and ruin it for her.”

“You wouldn’t ruin it,” Shiro insisted, pushing open the door to exit the staircase. “She’s always asking how you’re doing, I bet she’d love having one more person to celebrate with.”

“I don’t really celebrate,” Keith said flatly. “I’m not a big fan of Christmas. I’d fuck it up for her. I’ll just stay here, I really don’t mind. You know I like the solitude, anyway.”

Shiro frowned but thankfully dropped the subject. Keith didn’t like holidays, especially the Christmas season. It made him uncomfortable and twitchy. The only holiday he didn’t mind was Halloween, because, if he was being honest, he loved seeing all the little kids in their costumes searching for candy. Plus, it was so close to his birthday that when he was younger he pretended that Halloween was really a birthday party, just for him. It made him feel better about the lack of actual attention on his birthday, and while he knew better now than to think that Halloween was for his birthday, it still left him with a bittersweet nostalgia and fondness for the holiday. Plus, there was always discount chocolate the day after, which was always a bonus.

They headed towards Shiro’s car in the small parking lot behind their building. Shiro unlocked Keith’s door first and opened it for him before heading around to get in the driver’s side. Keith settled in and buckled his seatbelt, thinking wistfully of the savings account that he’d had for years that was full of money intended for a motorcycle. Every time he thought he had just enough to buy a decent bike and do any needed repairs, some sort of expense came up and set him back several months. Last time it was his 500 dollar housing deposit to live on campus for the year, this time it was probably going to be the deposit to live in the dorms over winter break. Who knew what would be next? He’d probably do something stupid like break his leg and end up with medical bills.

He sighed and slumped down in the passenger seat. Shiro side-eyed him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m thinking about buying a motorcycle,” Keith admitted. “But I’m always just a couple hundred short.”

“You’ve got a savings account, right?”

“Of course. I mean, I have enough that I could probably go out and buy a really shitty used one, but it would be about a thousand, plus all the repairs and parts. It’s better to save up and get a nicer one because it costs less in the long run.”

“Did you have a specific kind in mind? Or are you just looking for a bike?”

“Well,” he started, feeling his ears heat with embarrassment. “There’s one that I’d love to have, a Yamaha FZ 07- in Rapid Red,” He admitted bashfully. “I’d be incredibly lucky to get one for even 7,000. I doubt I could get one at all.”

Shiro’s eyes widened and he let out a low whistle. “That’s pretty pricey. Is it at least a good one, and safe?”

Keith’s face lit up; he may have trouble talking about stuff like his family, or his emotions, but bikes were something he could go on about for hours if someone let him. “It has a 3.7 gallon tank and is estimated at 58 miles per gallon, but it normally hits high 40’s, so it’s pretty efficient on fuel. The engine is really compact too, it’s a 689cc liquid-cooled, inline twin cylinder, DOHC engine with fuel injection, which basically means that it combines low, mid-range torque with a really strong high-rpm pulling power. It’s got stacked input/output shafts to centralize the mass-“

“Whoa, whoa,” Shiro interrupted, laughing. “I’m happy to see you so excited over something and it’s obvious you put a lot of research into this, but I don’t speak greasemonkey. Basically, what I want to know is, is it safe, how fast does it go, and is it worth your money?”

“Well… it has a good weight to it, and nice handling, so it’s easier to balance and drive, so yeah I guess it’s pretty safe for a motorcycle. It has a top speed of 133 miles per hour.” He saw Shiro’s face pale slightly at that one. “Not that I’d be going that fast,” he quickly assured him. “And overall it’s a good bike. It’s not really anything special, but it’s the perfect blend of inexpensive and reliable. It’s not new or surprising technology, it’s just a really well-designed bike.”

“And is it your kind of bike?” Shiro asked gently. “I feel like that’s an important thing everyone overlooks- does it feel right to you?”

“Absolutely,” Keith answered immediately. “I got to test drive one and it was perfect. It’s smaller, too, which is good for me- the seat is only about a 32-inch height, and it’s just under 400 pounds. The engine sounds perfect, too. It’s not a fussy bike.”

“It does sound like your kind of ride,” Shiro agreed. “How close are you to getting it?”

“Right now I’m about 300 short,” Keith said. “But I’m saving up as much as I can, and I think I can manage to get it some time early next year.” He didn’t mention that winter break was going to set him back at least another 300 dollars, or that he was also going to dip into his savings for a new phone, which he didn’t even know how much that would cost.

“Not too bad. I hope you get it soon, I think it’ll be good for you.” He merged into a turn lane and turned on his blinker, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel once the car came to a stop. “Not that I mind driving you places, of course. I’ll still take you wherever you need to go, bike or not.”

“Thanks. I really wish you’d let me pay you gas.”

“There’s no need to, we’re always going the same places. It’s not like you cost me any extra.” The light turned green and he took his foot off the brake. “Even if you were, I wouldn’t take any gas money. It’s no big deal, Keith.”

Keith grumbled in his seat and turned to stare out the window, watching raindrops run down the glass. The sky was gray and cloudy and it had been spitting rain all day. The wind had a little bit of a bite to it at times, but Keith didn’t mind. He loved these types of days; they weren’t common back in Arizona- not that they were common in Florida, either. It reminded him of monsoon season, but gentler, calmer. Even though rainy days weren’t commonly viewed as good weather, he liked them.

“Good weather for staying in with friends,” Shiro commented, noticing Keith intently watching the skies. “Don’t you think?”

“Yeah. I like these kinds of days.”

“They’re pretty, but they aren’t much fun to be out in. Plus it makes my arm hurt.”

“What are you, sixty?” Keith scoffed. “You’re too young to have joint pain.”

“It’s not my joints,” Shiro said. “It’s my arm, and the scars. They hurt more in the rain.”

“Your…? Oh.” Keith reached up to scratch at his jaw, feeling awkward. To be completely honest, at times he forgot Shiro had old injuries and a prosthetic, forgot that he had aches and pains and sometimes struggled with daily activities. Even with the scar across the bridge of his nose and the gleam of metal fingers, it was easy to forget that he had been injured. He tackled life with such vigor that Keith forgot that he was technically disabled.

“Sorry,” he said after a few moments of silence. “I kinda forgot.”

Shiro chuckled. “Keith, how could you forget? You’ve seen me without my prosthetic, and I have this huge scar on my face.”

“Because I don’t think of you as disabled,” Keith said. “You’re just… Shiro.”

Shiro smiled and turned into an unfamiliar driveway. “Thanks. I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who sees it like that.” He put the car in park and opened his door. Keith wrung his hands before opening his own door, unsure if what Shiro had said was a good thing or a bad thing.

He followed Shiro up to the front door, where he unlocked it with one of the keys on his lanyard. Wow, he and Allura must be more serious than Keith realized if he had a key to her place. He gestured for Keith to enter first and pulled his key from the lock.

The front room was nice; it was modern in style, sparsely decorated with white, silver, and light blues, with much more glass than Keith was used to seeing in one room. An unfamiliar woman poked her head into the room from what appeared to be the kitchen. Her long fluffy hair looked like cotton candy, the illusion aided by the coloring of it- pale pink up by the roots, fading into a soft sky blue at the tips. Whoever dyed it did an amazing job. She had a few pale patches on her face and neck, but other than that her skin that Keith could see was a lovely dark brown. Her eyes were a striking bright blue, and Keith briefly wondered if she had contacts in. He may not have been very interested in girls, but she was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

“Keith!” she said, coming into the room and pulling him into a quick hug. He stiffened in surprise, too shocked to raise his arms and return the gesture. Even with just one word, he recognized her voice- he was finally meeting Allura in person. “It’s so nice to see you, I’m so glad you could come!”

“Glad I could make it,” he mumbled before taking a slight step back. Shiro came up from behind him and joined Allura at her side, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. She was dressed casually as well in a long sleeved pink top and gray yoga pants that stopped mid-calf. Her feet were bare and Keith noticed that her toenails were painted a sparkly hot pink, yet her fingernails were unpainted.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said to both of them, excitement swimming in her eyes like fish swimming in a tropical ocean. Keith leaned in slightly to peer at them, surprised when he didn’t see any lines on her eyes from contact lenses. “We’re having breakfast for dinner.” She clasped her hands together and turned to smile up at Shiro. “Would you like to help me with cooking?”

“Are you sure you want me to help?” Shiro asked, wrapping an arm around her. “You know how awful I am in the kitchen.”

“Well, I’d like your company at least. You can measure things and hand them to me while I cook, how about that?”

“Sounds like a better plan. Oh, hi Katie!”

“Hi Shiro.” Keith turned to see a smaller girl walking in from the other doorway, drying her hands on a pair of jeans before tucking them into the pockets of an oversized navy blue hoodie. “Allura, your soap smells really good.”

“Thanks,” she said, reaching to grab Shiro’s hand. “Keith, this is Matt’s sister Katie. Katie, this is Keith.”

Katie’s eyebrow disappeared behind chestnut colored bangs. “Hey, I know him.”

“Oh, wait, I know you. You’re the caffeine fiend.”

She chortled and took a hand out of her pocket to push up her glasses. “So I was right, I’m some kind of urban legend at the Starbucks?”

“Uh, yeah. You always get so much espresso that everyone who ever serves you is worried about your heart stopping.”

“Sweet, my roommates owe me twenty bucks each now.”

“Well I’m glad you two are already familiar with each other,” Allura said, flashing smiles at both of them. “Shiro and I are going to get to work in the kitchen. You two will be ok out here?”

“Yeah, of course,” Katie said, heading over to the couch and digging in a messenger bag that had been abandoned on the floor next to it. “And if he turns out to be weird or boring, I can put on my headphones and ignore him.”

Shiro snorted but chided her anyway. “That’s a little rude, don’t you think?”

“I don’t,” Keith admitted. “She’s just being honest. Besides, I brought my book,” he said, pulling it out of his back pocket. “You were right, by the way. It’s really good so far.”

Shiro gave Allura a look as if to say ‘see what I have to deal with?’ before following her into the kitchen.

“So,” Katie said, flopping onto the couch with a small computer on her lap. “What do you do?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, sitting on the other side of the couch but leaving plenty of room between them.

“I mean, like, what are you interested in? What makes you, you?” She started tapping away at her keyboard, not even bothering to look at Keith. He took the opportunity to take in her features- reddish brown hair that looked like an overgrown pixie cut, a nose that was larger and a bit pointy, and thin lips that seemed to be perpetually smirking. Her glasses had strips of green washi tape wrapped around the arms, making them look like techno candy canes.

“Well… I’m an art major. I like to draw, and I like motorcycles and messing around with mechanics. I read a lot when I have the time.”

“Nice. Multi-talented. Well, I’m Katie, I go by Pidge a lot of the time.”

“I definitely remember you now. You like caramel fraps, too.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “Good memory too, nice. Anyway, I like computers and I’m a cybersecurity major. Have you ever built a computer?”

“No, why?”

“I have.”

“That’s pretty cool.” They sat in silence for a few moments.“You look a little young for college,” he said without thinking.

“Like you’re one to talk.”

He bristled. “Ok, first of all, I’m 20, and secondly-“

“I’m joking,” Pidge said. “I thought you were making a joke about the fact that I’m an early graduate. You’re right, I am young for college. I’m only 17 even though I’m a sophomore.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling awkward again. “Sorry.”

“You get mistaken for a high-schooler a lot?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I hate it.”

“Fuck, I hate it too and I’m actually high school age.”

“How did you graduate early?”

“They moved me up two grades and I had like, a ton of extra and AP credits, so I qualified to graduate early. It’s pretty sick. Plus, with the AP credits I had there’s a chance I’ll graduate with my master’s instead of my bachelor’s.”

“Damn,” Keith said, impressed. “I bet you got scholarships out the ass.”

“Full ride, baby!” Pidge said proudly. “Lots of people want a child prodigy at their school, even if I almost got a felony.” He turned to stare at her in shock. “I did a lot of hacking,” she explained in an attempt to dismiss Keith’s questions. “Still do, technically, but that’s besides the point.”

“Wow,” Keith said faintly, somewhat jealous and wishing that he had gotten a full ride.

They continued to chat about everything under the sun, from weird people Keith saw in the Starbucks to weird things Pidge had found on the internet, to their classes and their mutual hatred of Professor Iverson, as well as their shared love for flaming hot Cheetos and Pepsi products. Over half an hour passed before Pidge wondered out loud if dinner was almost finished.

Keith got up and snuck quietly into the kitchen, intending to ask whoever was closest to the door how much longer it would be.

A redheaded older gentleman with a voluminous mustache- must have been Allura’s godfather- was talking to a man who was the spitting image of Pidge but with longer hair and no glasses, surely her brother. They were engrossed in a conversation about some kind of computer parts and paying no mind to anything going on around them.

Shiro and Allura, similar to Matt and her godfather, were absorbed in their own little world. She was poking at a pan on the stove, making omelets. She said something as Shiro was handing a measuring cup full of eggs to her that caused him to let out an uproarious laugh and almost spill the contents into her hair. He had a half-eaten bagel clenched in his flesh hand that he almost dropped onto the floor from how hard he was laughing.

Keith smiled at the domesticity of the scene and backed out, not wanting to interrupt an intense conversation nor a sweet moment between lovers. “I don’t think it will be too much longer,” he said to Pidge as he sat back on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so keith and pidge finally meet, mwuahaha  
> i did so much research on motorcycles for this chapter and im pretty confident that i didnt make any errors in the information but if you see any or any typos or whatever feel free to point them out  
> next chapter is focused on lance  
> i made art for this chapter you can find it here -> : https://closetgeekasaurus.tumblr.com/post/167432981315/watercolor-doodle-of-shiro-and-allura-from


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets the deets on Keith and cleans his room.

Lance was singing along to Bastille in his room, alone and deciding to tidy up for once. Neither he, nor Hunk or Pidge, were the neatest people, and putting the three of them in a relatively small shared space probably wasn’t the best idea. Everything from empty cups and fast food bags to computer parts and books was scattered across their room, making the place look generally trashed. Lance had been sitting around drinking some microwaved hot chocolate and unsure of what to do by himself on a Friday night when he decided he was sick of sitting around in the mess. All three of them kept meaning to clean up their own respective messes, but got too busy and forgot. Lance figured he might as well pick up the slack and do it all, just to make it easier for everyone.

His phone chimed over the bluetooth speaker and he paused, standing up straight from where he had been digging trash out from underneath Pidge’s bed, wondering if he should check it or leave it for later. He shrugged and started to crawl back under the bed, figuring if it was important they’d message again, when his phone chirped three more times.

“God damn,” he murmured, crossing the room to pick it up and check who was bothering him. He had four unread messages from Pidge that had come in all at once, and she was still typing.

 _LACE_  
_LANCE*_  
_YOULL NEVER FUKN GUESS WHOS AT ALLURAS_  
_ITS BARISTA BOI_  
_HES SHIROS ROOMMATE_  
_OMFG YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS THEY TALK ABOUT ME AT THE STARBUCKS_

He swore and made a mental note to give Pidge a twenty when she got home. God, it really was a small world; he couldn’t believe that Keith had been connected to Lance through just a few people without even realizing it.

_Jfc whats he saying talk to him figure out what he likes or smthng so I can impress him next time I see him_

He gulped and sat down on the foot of his bed, cleaning forgotten. God, he really hoped Pidge didn’t bring him up and tell Keith embarrassing stories about Lance.

_ok i asked him what hes into_

Good Grief started playing from his Spotify and he couldn’t help but laugh- what a fitting song for what he was feeling right now. Either way, sitting around wasn’t going to do him any good. He stood again, determined to continue with his cleaning session while he waited for Pidge to respond with any new information about Keith. He was picking up all the discarded laundry from the floor when his phone chimed again and he practically pounced on it.

_Ok so hes an art major but he doesn’t have a sketchbook or anything with him so I cant send pics of his art and im not asking if he has any saved to his phone. He likes motorcycles too and mechanics and he has a really good memory because he remembers my coffee order lol he reads too he even brought a book with him_

Lance bit his lip at the thought of Keith in mechanic’s clothes and covered in grease from working on a motorcycle engine. Ok, wow, hot.

_He gets mistaken for a high schooler a lot so maybe u should tell him he looks mature or smthng_

Cleaning completely forgotten, he sat back down and stretched his legs out on his bed, eagerly awaiting each message from Pidge.

 _Yoooo he likes diet pepsi and flaming hot cheetos too but hes lactose intolerant so it looks like you cant take him out to that new milkshake bar that you talked about_  
_ok he also hates iversons guts with a passion which is kinda hilarious since yknow his suitemate grades papers for the asshole_  
_HES NEVER SEEN STAR WARS_  
_also u should take that one figure drawing class next semester like you were thinking about because hes totally taking it too you could have a class together_  
_also hes kind of a punk he has all these ear piercings that ive never seen him wearing at work and hes wearing all black except a red jacket hes even got combat boots dude_  
_brb dinners finally ready and allura has this no phones rule at the table_

Lance sighed and dropped back into his pillows, already committing everything he now knew about Keith to memory. Good to know his suspicions about Keith being punk were right, with an added bonus- motorcycles! The guy rode and possibly worked on motorcycles! That was really hot. And an art major too? This guy was shaping up to be ridiculously cute. Lance couldn’t wait until he got to go on a date or something with him. It was a shame about the lactose intolerance though. He really wanted to bring someone on a date to that cute little milkshake place he and Hunk had found when they were wandering downtown. Oh well.

Lethargy started playing and he wiggled in place, feeling the urge to dance around. Ooh, maybe this was the song for his next routine. Nothing else had been clicking with him, but he could see real potential in this one. He added it to his “Choreograph?” playlist before jumping out of his bed and shuffling around, trying to settle into a groove. Nothing was setting into stone, but it had promise. He smiled, glad he knew he had at least one option for his next assignment if he couldn’t think of anything else.

“You checked out years ago…. What I’d do not to worry like you,” he sang along, dropping his phone onto the foot of his bed and resuming his cleaning session.

When Matt dropped Pidge back off at her dorm and she took the elevator up to her room, that was how she found Lance- dancing and singing to music by Bastille in a nearly spotless room as he tied off a bag of garbage.

“Holy shit,” she said, peering around the room. “This place looks great. Wow, you really didn’t have to clean up my side too.” She set her bag down on the foot of her bed, still staring around at how different the room looked now that it was nearly as clean as it was when they moved in.

“Pssh, it was no big deal. I was already cleaning so I figured I might as well. By the way, all the spare computer bits are in that green basket on your desk, I hope I didn’t mix anything up between you and Hunk. How come you didn’t text me after dinner?”

“My phone died,” she explained, rummaging through the basket to make sure everything was there. “And nothing looks mixed up, looks like everything is here. Wow, thanks Lance.”

“No problem. Figured I might as well. So, anything else about Keith I should know?”

She grinned. “I’m surprised that wasn’t your first question. Well, nobody has ever really cooked for him before. He ate so much at Allura’s that he looked kind of sick- Shiro too. They live off takeout Chinese food and Pizza Hut. They’re both gym rats too, Keith stretched after dinner and his shirt slipped up a little bit, right? He’s got abs and that V thing that your hips do when you’re really ripped. Lance, he’s pretty hot. And he can pick Shiro up. Think about that- Shiro, the beefcake. That little guy who’s probably only 5 foot 5 can pick up Shiro’s huge ass and not even look like he’s straining himself.”

Lance had to refrain himself from drooling but couldn’t help the groan he let slip out. “Oh my god, Pidge,” he whined, flopping onto his bed. “Fuck, that’s super super hot.”

“Dude, I know. Oh, and he wears his hair down when he’s not at work. He looks kinda like a tame member of KISS.”

Lance grabbed a pillow and slammed it into his face, muffled yelling emerging from underneath. Pidge laughed and bent over to get in their minifridge, grabbing a can of diet Pepsi. She patted his foot before sitting at her now organized desk and cracking open the can. “Hey, where’s Hunk?”

Lance removed the pillow long enough to say “Grocery store,” before pressing it back into his face.

“Did he call an Uber or did he walk?”

“He walked,” Lance’s mumbled through a mouthful of fabric. “He’s buying you GoGurt.”

“Sweet,” Pidge whispered, fiddling with a little squishy frog figurine she kept on her desk. “Hunk’s the best.”

Lance made a noise of agreement before finally tossing the pillow to the foot of his bed. “I wish I had Keith’s number,” he whined. “I’d text him pickup lines about motorcycles and art. Like… ‘I’m not a photographer, but I can picture us together!’ Eh? How does that sound?”

“Weak and overused. I would try something more like… ‘Is your dad an art thief? Because you’re a masterpiece’.”

“Eh, I’m not feeling it. I think I should be more straightforward, like… ‘I’m a fine art appraiser, and that ass is priceless’.”

Pidge let out a laugh. “Oh god, do a punk one next.”

“Hm… ‘how can such a badass have such a good ass?’,” he snorted. “Oh wait, here’s another one- ‘can I see all your piercings?’ Or, I have an idea, did his clothes have holes in them?”

“Yeah, he was wearing ripped jeans.”

“’Can I rip more holes in your clothes?’ Oh that one’s genius, I should write it down. Or I could just cut right to the chase and be like, ‘You like piercings, huh? Well how about I pierce your anus with my cock?’”

“Fucking Christ,” Pidge wheezed, clutching her sides and laughing. “Please, for the love of god, don’t hit on him like that if you’re actually serious about him.”

“I won’t,” he chuckled. “I just wanted to make you laugh. If things ever get serious with him though, I might tell him them to make him laugh too.”

The two of them settled down and resumed their usual leisure activities. Pidge plugged in her phone to charge and took out her computer, working on whatever her latest project was, while Lance dug his ukelele out of his bed and started strumming gently, humming along with the chords.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Garrison Trio are messy fucks and Lance plays the ukelele because of my friend Hayden who was writing songs in my room while I was working on chapter 3.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith listens in on a crash-course chemistry study session at the Starbucks

Keith wasn’t surprised when he continued to see Lance in the Starbucks more often than he did before; now that he had given an inch, it seemed Lance was determined to take a mile. It was getting to the point where Keith saw him almost every day, and when he didn’t, Pidge or one of their friends, a cute islander boy, would tell him something along the lines of “Lance says hi,” or “Lance wants to know if he can have your number yet.”

It was a slow time at work one day, about two weeks after Lance had first hit on him, when all three of them came in- Lance, Pidge, and their friend, Hank? Something like that. Lance waved cheerfully at Keith, who was restocking the lids and straws near the counter. He smiled at the other boy before resuming his work, unsurprised when Lance came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“So, how about today? What are my chances if I ask for your number.”

“23 percent of a chance I’ll say yes, just for your sheer persistence.” To be honest, he would ordinarily find Lance’s pestering him everyday annoying if he wasn’t so flattered.

“Decent odds, I’d say. So… can I have your number?”

“No,” Keith said, fighting off a smile that he could feel playing at the edges of his lips.

“Aw man, why? It’s been two weeks and three days since you said to ask again in a couple weeks, am I just not cute enough?” Keith turned in time to see Lance’s pout and almost felt bad for him.

“Ask again tomorrow.” He walked away from the counter and resumed his place by the register, already punching in Lance’s order- he had memorized it by heart.

“Do you mean it this time?”

“Yep, if you come in and ask tomorrow I’ll give you my number.” He held his hand out for Lance’s credit card, noticing the other boy’s nails were painted a dark blue when he handed it over.

“What’s so special about tomorrow?” He put his elbows up on the counter and rested his chin in his hands.

“I get a new phone tonight,” Keith explained with a smile. “That’s why I made you wait, because my number is changing and I didn’t wanna give it to you just to have to give you a new one.”

Lance’s face lit up like an instantaneous sunrise and he gave Keith a smile that was all blinding-white teeth. “Can I give you my number now, so that you can text me as soon as you get the new phone?”

Keith hummed for a moment before handing Lance a discarded receipt and a sharpie. “Yeah, go for it.”

Lance scribbled his number down as quickly as he could before handing it back to Keith. “Here you go, text me whenever.” A swift glance downwards showed him that Lance had drawn a winky face on it as well. The other employee came up from behind Keith and handed Lance his drink. He took it with a gracious smile and leaned down to take a sip, wincing and swearing when he burned his tongue. “Anyway,” he coughed. “I’m gonna sit down and let Pidge and Hunk crash-course me in chemistry before my test. Come sit with us if you get a free minute or two.” He gave a little wave before walking away and joining his friends, almost immediately groaning when he sat down and Pidge opened a textbook in front of him.

Keith leaned against the counter and pushed his bangs out of his face. He let out a tiny yawn. He had been up late last night in the studio, painting his lion and having another music battle with the pop-lover next door. Both of them had worked until almost two in the morning before they gave up within fifteen minutes of each other. The late night combined with Keith getting up at 7 for an 8 am class, plus several hours of work, was all really taking its toll on him. He knew he probably looked like shit; he had caught a glimpse of his reflection on the way here and he was even paler than usual with deep purple circles under his eyes. His hair wasn’t tied back as neatly as it usually was, either, and he felt overall pretty gross. He must not look too bad, though, because Lance kept glancing over at Keith when he thought Keith wasn’t paying attention and letting tiny smiles crawl onto his face. Every time he got distracted Pidge would snap her fingers in front of his face, or Hunk would gently grab his chin and redirect his gaze to the book and notes spread out in front of him. Every so often the two boys would gesture at each other with their hands, much to Keith’s confusion.

He yawned again and his jaw popped. Work was so slow, there were only two other customers in the store and they had already been served. Maybe Keith could spare a few minutes to sit with Lance and his friends? He was mulling it over when he heard Lance laugh, loud and full and with the kind of joy that you rarely saw in adults. Lance’s laughter made Keith’s decision for him; he was tearing off his hat and letting his hair down before he was even fully aware of what he was doing. He left his station and crossed the café, pulling up a chair to their table and dropping unceremoniously into it so he was sitting backwards, arms crossed and leaning on the top of the back of the chair.

“Hey,” he said in response to their surprised looks. “Work’s slow. Care if I sit for a minute?”

“Not at all,” Pidge said immediately, reaching over to push up Lance’s dropped jaw. “We’re just trying to drill these reactions and procedures through Lance’s head.”

“I’m gonna blow up the lab when I take my test,” he said miserably.

Keith leaned in close to him so that he could take a look at the section they were working on. “No you won’t. These chemicals won’t make that type of reaction.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “They won’t?”

“No, see, you have the wrong compounds plugged into your formula, see? It’s written here in the book.” He jabbed his finger at a spot on the page. “These are the ones you need. If you went through with what you were writing in your notes, you would’ve made a… I think a neurotoxin. Which is bad, but not as bad as an explosion.”

“But the professor said if we mix this wrong it’s highly reactive!”

“Your professor’s wrong,” Keith said with a straight face. “Trust me, I know my explosives.”

Hunk gave Pidge a worried look, but Pidge simply shrugged in return. “Lemme see it with the new formula?” She asked, holding her hands out for the notebook. Lance handed it over and she pushed her glasses up her nose to read it. “He’s right,” she said after a moment. “You had the wrong compounds.”

“I didn’t know you were smart too,” Lance whined. “Now I’m the only dumb one.”

“You’re not dumb!” Hunk said quickly. Pidge nodded in agreement.

“You’re really adaptable,” she said. “You may not be super good at academics, but you’re a quick-thinker, which if you ask me is more practical in most situations.”

Hunk smiled and flashed Lance two thumbs up. “She’s right, dude. You’re smart, just not in the same ways.”

Lance’s face brightened a bit. “Thanks guys. But quick thinking won’t do me good on this test, so I better keep studying.” He gestured for Pidge to return his notes, which she did.

Keith rested his head in his hands as they continued their rapid fire study session, occasionally chiming in with tips that would help Lance keep things straight when he took his test. He glanced at the clock and got up with a sigh, accidentally drawing the group’s attention to him.

“I have to get back to work,” he explained, putting the chair back where it belonged. “I’ll see you guys around.”

They all agreed and said their goodbyes, noses already buried back in the books before Keith could even walk away from the table. He rolled his eyes and headed back to the counter, tying his hair back up as he went.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith gets his new phone and texts Lance

Keith looked at the shiny new smartphone in his hands; it was slick, clean, and much larger than the shitty phone he was using before- one with a shattered screen and a slide-out keyboard. The associate at the store had even transferred over all his contacts for him- all except one.

Shiro watched with mild amusement as Keith took several deep breaths before pulling a receipt out of his pocket, then took a few more breaths.

“Fuck. I’m actually gonna do it. I’m going to text him.” He stared at the screen with wide eyes, not making any moves to actually open his messaging app.

“I’m pretty sure you have to press some buttons to text someone,” Shiro joked. Keith shushed him and glared at him.

“I know that, shut up. I’m nervous.”

“Here, just-“ he reached over and took the phone out of Keith’s hands, punching in the number and sending a text. “There, tada.”

“Oh my god,” Keith shrieked. “What did you send?’

“Relax, all I said was ‘hey, it’s keith’.”

Keith scrambled to steal the phone back from Shiro, fumbling with it before he figured out how to turn on the screen and double-checked that Shiro had actually sent what he said he did. “Never do that again,” he spat, clutching the phone to his chest like a life preserver. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“You look like a gremlin,” Shiro said, unable to keep himself from laughing. “Seriously, relax.” He started the car to pull out- they hadn’t even left the Sprint store parking lot yet. “If you’re like this sending a simple greeting text, I’d hate to see what you’re like when he actually texts you back.”

The ride home was uneventful and mostly quiet; the two of them were the type of people that if they didn’t have much to say, they didn’t babble. It made for some nice companionable silences between them, which was a refreshing change from most people. It wasn’t as relaxing as it normally was for Keith, though. He was antsy, compulsively checking his phone for texts every thirty seconds despite the fact that his notifications were at max volume. Plus, he was even more exhausted than he was earlier. At least he had seen Lance today, and actually got to talk to him for more than a few seconds, too.

They got back to their building and their respective rooms without any texts, much to Keith’s frustration. Lance knew that Keith was getting his new phone tonight, and even if he didn’t, he seemed like the type of guy who was glued to his phone all day. It wasn’t like Keith expected him to instantly respond, but he figured that Lance would be a little more attentive tonight.

Shiro bade him goodbye with a smile and headed into his own room, leaving Keith to rummage through the fridge for some of the lactose-free yogurt he bought last time they were at the store. He found one and slammed the door shut with a vengeful kick.

“Don’t kick the fridge, it won’t make him text you back faster,” Shiro called from behind his door.

“Don’t kick the fridge,” Keith grumbled in a mocking tone, entering his own room.

“I heard that!”

“Good!” He shut his door, crossed the room, then flopped back onto his bed with a huff. He was peeling back the lid on his yogurt and sticking a spoon in it when his phone let out an unmistakable chime. He froze and stared at it, spoon halfway to his face and dripping globs of yogurt onto his jeans. There were only two possibilities- Shiro was texting him from his own room and dicking with Keith, or Lance had responded.

He dropped his spoon back into the container and used the palm of his hand to smear the yogurt from his jeans. He licked his hand clean before reaching for his phone and turning it on.

_Hey!!! Wow you weren’t kidding! Sorry for taking a little whle I was helping pidge with smthng I had promised how r u whatre u up to!_

Jeez, he sure seemed excited. Which was good, that was a good thing.

_I’m good. I was just eating some yogurt. You?_

He let out a stuttered breath and sat, watching and waiting for the next message to appear.

_Ummm im just kinda dicking around I don’t really have anything going on are you busy because like maybe we could hang out or is that too soon? Sorry im just real stoked_

He let out a loud strangled noise.

“You ok?” Shiro called through the paper-thin walls.

“He wants to know if I want to hang out,” he yelled back. “What do I say?”

“Do you want to hang out with him?”

“Of course! But will I look desperate if I agree to hang out now?”

“He asked you first, if anything he’s the desperate one. If you want to, then just say yes! Otherwise, say you’re busy.”

He bit his lips and rubbed the tips of his fingers against themselves, considering his options and pondering what he should do.

_What would we do if I said yes?_

He slammed his face into a pillow and groaned loudly. He didn’t have enough time to collect the thoughts of his scattered brain before his phone chimed again. He shot up and grabbed it.

_Oh jeezz I didn’t think this far ahead I didn’t think youd say yes???? Ummm do you want to get pizza?_   
_WAIT SHIT YOURE LACTOSE INTOLERANT YOU CANT EAT THE CHEESE SORRY_

Keith furrowed his eyebrows and stared at the phone, puzzled. He didn’t remember mentioning his lactose intolerance to Lance.

_How did you know I was lactose intolerant???_

Lance’s next message was an incoherent jumble of letters and numbers.

_Wrunpetp83p9np38_   
_fuck_   
_sorry_   
_uhh_   
_pidge and I were kinda texting while you guys were at alluras cause she knew I was majorly crushing on you and so she was kinda telling me stuff about you and wingmanning_   
_FUCK I MEAN_   
_NOT THAT IM MAJORLY CRUSHING ON YOU_   
_FUCK_   
_fORGET I SAID THAT_

Keith started laughing- small at first, just a giggle, but it quickly morphed into the kind of gut-wrenching laughter he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid. Shiro pushed Keith’s door open and stared at him with a puzzled look.

“Uh… you ok? I’m just checking on you, you sound a little hysterical.”

“Pidge was wingmanning and Lance just let it slip,” he wheezed.

His phone dinged with another message from Lance: _FUCK IS CARED YOU OFF DIDT I KJBFLSB IM SORRU_

He quickly texted back, assuring Lance that he wasn’t scared off, just laughing his ass off.

_No no you didn’t scare me away im just laughing my fucking ass off_   
_ok, I’ll bite, let’s get some pizza. I can handle it if I take my pills. Anywhere in mind?_

Lance’s response was immediate.

_Thank fuck ok um theres this great place a couple streets away called la pizza e la mia bae (it means pizza is my bae) and its really fucking good and theyre open til 11? Does that sound good?_

_I’ll meet you outside Alfor Center in fifteen minutes and we can walk there._

Keith grinned and turned off the screen. He looked up at Shiro and gleefully whispered “I have a date in fifteen minutes.”

“Well, you better get ready,” he said with a shake of his head. “Good luck, have fun, and use protection.”

“Shiro!” he squawked, throwing a pillow at him. Shiro shut the door before it could hit him, roaring with laughter,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guyssss its happeninggggg  
> as always thanks for the comments :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance go on a date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait! I took some time off for my health as well as to spend some time with family- plus, i just flat out needed a break from writing and also wanted to reassess the direction the story was going with pacing, events, etc etc. I made this chapter a little longer, hope it makes up for it. as always thanks for the kudos and comments, i love hearing what you guys think :) <3

Keith stood outside the campus’s main building, the Alfor Center, shuffling his feet and glancing around for Lance’s familiar face. He tapped the heel of his boot against the edge of the steps, watching how it grinded against the stone, before looking up and tracing the constellations with his eyes. Lance was a couple minutes late, but it was no big deal. Keith was more than fine with having a few minutes outside. November nights in Florida weren’t very different from the nights in Arizona, they just tended to be more humid. One thing that was always constant was the stars. Even if they were in different positions, as long as his surroundings weren’t too bright he could always see the pinpricks of light.

He let out a deep breath, wishing it was cold enough to see his breath. For some reason, everyone expected him to enjoy summer and its roasting heatwaves- maybe it was his hotheaded personality that made people think that. What he really enjoyed was the harsh biting cold of the dead of winter. For one thing, he always liked the weight of dressing in layers which was made much more difficult by summer’s heat. Plus, less people tended to go outside when it was cold out, meaning Keith experienced more solitude. His favorite thing, however, was stepping out of a building and into the cold; that first harsh breath and the push of freezing air on his face made him feel more alive than almost anything else. Regardless, it didn’t tend to happen in Florida, which Keith was sorely disappointed by.

He heard footsteps coming quickly towards him before slowing to a shuffle. “Keith?” His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes, apprehensive until he realized it was Lance standing in front of him.

“Hey,” he said, standing up straighter.

“Hi.” Lance’s smile was so wide and bright that it seemed to glow in the dark. “Sorry, I know I’m a couple minutes late, but my roommates wouldn’t stop harassing me.”

Keith scoffed. “I know what you mean. Shiro is pretty good about not doing it, but when he is, he’s an ass.”

They shuffled around for a few moments before Lance finally asked if Keith wanted to get going. He nodded and jammed his hands in his pockets, looking expectantly at Lance and waiting for him to lead the way.

For all of his usual chatter, Lance was surprisingly silent on the walk to the pizza place. Keith wasn’t great at social niceties, but even he was pretty sure that the silence was an awkward one, and that at least one of them should be filling the quiet.

“So,” Keith said a few minutes into the walk. “I don’t think I ever caught what your major was?” He winced- it was a stupid question to ask, but the first thing that popped in his head.

“Oh. I’m still undecided,” Lance replied. “I’m… not really sure what I want to do. I have 1,001 ideas but none of them ever stick, y’know?” He nodded as if he was answering his own rhetorical question. “You’re an art major, right?”

“Yeah, and a sophomore. But I’m guessing since Pidge already knew that, so did you.”

Keith watched, fascinated, as Lance’s neck turned dark red and the color spread up to his cheeks. “Yeah,” he choked out. “Sorry about that, that must seem, like, really creepy.”

Keith shrugged. “Not really. I probably would’ve done the same thing, honestly.”

“So, uh, what kind of art do you do?”

“Lately? A lot of painting, because that’s most of the classes I’m taking. I’m excited to take drawing classes next semester, because I’m more used to sketching with pencils.” He twirled a piece of his hair that had fallen into his face. They stopped at a street corner, waiting for the crosswalk to light up.

“Cool. I’d like to see some of your work sometime, if you’re ok with that. I love art, and I think it’s so cool when other people can make it, but I can barely hold a pencil to save my life.”

“Maybe I’ll show you some stuff sometime,” Keith said, keeping his response vague. He honestly had mixed feelings about showing off his art, especially to Lance.

“I play ukulele, if you consider that art,” Lance offered.

“I do consider it art, music is difficult. How long have you been playing?”

“A few years, but it’s not a very hard instrument to pick up. Maybe I’ll show you some chords if you want?”

“Maybe. That might be cool. I don’t know if I’d be a very good student though.”

“I bet you would be. Your tips helped me out a lot on my chemistry test, by the way. Normally I’m lucky to get a C in there, I normally get D’s, but I think I might have pulled in a B this time!”

Keith did the best he could to keep his mouth shut- if he had gotten a B, he would’ve been extremely disappointed in himself- but to average a C or a D? He’d consider himself a failure. But it was obvious even to Keith that Lance tended to struggle in school and that he was proud of himself for getting the grades he did. So he tried to stay quiet and not ruin the date before it even started.

“Nice,” he said faintly. “I’m glad I could help, hope you did well.”

They rounded the corner and Keith watched as Lance’s face lit up with excitement. “Here it is! I love this place,” he sighed happily. “They have so many different kinds of pizza, and their garlic knots are killer too.”

It wasn’t a large restaurant by any means, but it certainly was crowded; there were plenty of college students, but a surprising amount of older people in the crowd as well. True to Lance’s word, there were dozens of types of pizzas to choose from, although the menu did offer some other options such as pasta and garlic knots. The noise level was steady and almost comforting in its normalcy, and while the bustle of the restaurant was a little past his comfort zone, it wasn’t too much for him to handle.

“There’s a free table in the corner,” Lance said, pointing towards it and leaning in closer so Keith could hear him more clearly. He followed the direction of Lance’s finger and spotted the table in question- small, in a darker corner of the dining room, and barely big enough for two people. Definitely a date-esque table.

He couldn’t help but swallow nervously. “Sure, let’s sit there,” he found himself saying with more confidence than he felt. They both shimmied their way through the tangle of other tables and diners before sitting in their own chairs.

“Anything look good?” Lance asked before Keith could even open one of the menus at their table.

“Y’know, I saw some spaghetti and meatballs, I’m kinda feeling that, and maybe those garlic knots you mentioned?”

Lance hummed in approval. “Smart pick. I think I’m gonna get a slice of meat lovers pizza. You want a coke too?”

Keith nodded and smiled at Lance as he got up to put in their orders. As soon as the other boy was out of sight, Keith whipped out his phone and started frantically texting Shiro.

_HELP_   
_I’ve never been on a real date before Shiro how am I supposed to act???_

A response came almost immediately.

_Just be yourself. But maybe a little less prickly than normal._

He huffed and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Prickly? He was not prickly. Was he? He was lost in the thought cycle of whether or not he was prickly when Lance returned with their drinks.

“They said it’ll be maybe ten minutes for the food.”

“Huh? Oh, okay, cool.”

“So,” Lance started, resting his chin in his hands. “What are you into, besides art?”

“Um…” He tumbled words through his head, thinking of what to say. He wasn’t used to talking about himself. “I… like what?”

“Y’know, what you enjoy. What you do when you have free time, stuff you’re passionate about. That kind of stuff.”

“Well, uh… I like motorcycles and mechanic stuff. I go to the gym a lot, and I used to be really big into like, martial arts, but I don’t really have a lot of time for it anymore.”

“What’s your favorite subject?”

“Art and engineering. Anything where I can work with my hands.”

“Your favorite color?”

“Red.”

“Favorite food?”

“Right now I’m big on Chinese takeout and Wheat Thins. Is this a date or an interview?”

Lance pulled away, a blush starting to darken his neck and cheeks. “So- so this is like, a for real date?”

“I assumed that it was when you continually pestered me for my number and we agreed to meet up immediately after we started texting. Was I wrong?” Keith lifted an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“No, no way. Food, talking? This is totally a date.”

They smiled at each other for a few moments before Keith rested his head in his hands, mirroring Lance’s pose from earlier. “So, now I get to ask you stuff, right?”

“Absolutely,” Lance said as he leaned in closer. “Ask me anything, I’m an open book.”

“Okay, same questions. What are you passionate about?”

Lance’s eyes lit up as if someone had plugged in a Christmas tree. “Well, I love to dance. It makes me happy, and you don’t need language to dance, feel me? It’s like, universal. And I really really love marine life too, I love the ocean and the beach and all the sea creatures. I really love meeting new people and just getting to talk to people in general, and um… I really love, like, space and astrology and the constellations. It’s all so fascinating. Oh, and music too! I love listening to music, hearing music, making music… it’s kinda like dancing for me.”

Keith nodded, easily wrapped up in Lance’s spiel. “Um… what was the next thing you asked me?”

“Favorite subject,” Lance said with a smirk. “And I don’t really have one. I’m not big on school. So I guess my dance classes? But even those I’m not entirely crazy about, they’re so strict and structured. It’s not my style at all.”

“Mmm, I totally understand. I feel like that about my art classes sometimes. And let me guess, your favorite color is blue?”

“How’d you know?”

“You talked about the ocean like it’s holy, and both your shirt and your shoes are blue, and the shoes look like they get a lot of wear. Common sense, I guess.”

Lance grinned. “You’re smart. And before you ask, my favorite food is anything with a ton of garlic on it.”

“Not surprising, considering how you talked about the garlic knots here.”

“So… why Chinese takeout and Wheat Thins?”

“They’re easy, taste good, and all I have to eat in my dorm at the moment.”

Lance winced and made a disgusted noise. “How are you alive? You at least have a meal plan, right?”

“Barely, to both of those questions.”

Lance clutched a hand to his chest. “Jesus, someone needs to feed you more.”

“I guess it’s a good thing you took me here then, huh?” He took a sip of his previously untouched Coke.

“I guess so. And here comes our food, too!” He pointed at an approaching waiter. “Oh man, I’m so ready for this pizza. Been thinking about it for days.”

Keith chuckled and shifted in his seat. Lance may have been acting a tad overdramatic, but the food certainly did look appetizing.

They grew quiet as they started to eat, silent except for the occasional pleased noise from Lance. Keith was relieved for the opportunity to be quiet; talking to Lance and finding out more about him was definitely enjoyable, but also tiring as well. Plus, his food was amazingly good, and he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he started eating.

“You wanna try a bite?” Lance asked, holding out his half-eaten yet still enormous slice of pizza. “It’s really good.”

Keith leaned forward and took a bite off the end closest to him, chewing it carefully to consider the taste. “It’s pretty good,” he admitted. “But I like the pasta more.”

It didn’t take much longer for them to finish- Keith ended up having to ask for a takeout box; the portions were so huge he couldn’t finish his. Lance managed to eat all of his pizza (except for the crust) but it left him groaning, slumped in his chair and rubbing gingerly at his stomach.

“I’m weak,” he whined. “I used to be able to eat like, four of these slices.”

“That’s… I’m pretty sure that’s more than a whole normal sized pizza.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m disappointed in myself.”

Despite Keith’s insistence on paying for at least his own portion, Lance paid the entire bill before Keith could even get his wallet out. He wouldn’t accept the bills that Keith tried shoving at him either, insisting that he was the one taking Keith out on a date so he should be the one to pay. Keith swore that he would pay him back one way or another, which just made Lance laugh and promise that Keith could pay for the next date. Both of them felt their faces heat at the implication of there being another date, but it was more of a pleasant cozy warmth than it was the fire of embarrassment.

Everything was going smoothly until their walk home. Keith felt Lance’s fingers brush against his when the lights of their campus were starting to come into view, but he chalked it up to how close they were walking on the narrow sidewalk. The second time he felt their fingers touch he felt a dryness in his throat and started wondering if it were intentional. He was close to either asking about it or moving away when Lance reached over and outright twined their fingers together.

Keith’s heart leapt into his throat and started beating erratically as a wave of nausea swept through him. He barely knew Lance and yet they were holding hands- it felt wrong to him, and he wasn’t even wearing his gloves; the feeling of their bare skin touching was too much for Keith to handle. He shuddered and wrenched his hand away, whispering “please, don’t,” into the quiet night air between them.

Lance stopped walking, wearing an expression that was a mix of shock and sadness. “I’m sorry,” he said, disappointment clear in his voice. “Everything had been going so well, I just thought-“

“It’s not you,” Keith said, cutting him off. “And it’s not that I don’t like you.”

“Well… what is it, then?”

“I… I don’t like being touched,” he choked out. “It’s, it’s just this thing that I have, I get, like,” he made a vague gesture with his hands.

“Sensory overload?” Lance asked gently, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Keith stared at him- that sounded like therapist talk, doctor terms, something that Lance had heard personally and understood.

“Yeah,” he said faintly. “Sensory overload. How did you..?”

“One of my roommates is autistic, so are a couple of my siblings and nieces and nephews. They get sensory overload with different things, so as soon as you started to explain it, things just kinda clicked.” He shrugged and smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to set you off. Is there anything else that’s like, a hard no? If you’re comfortable bringing it up, I mean.”

“I… don’t like loud noises,” Keith found himself admitting. “And I don’t like wet things.”

“Okay, no touching, no loud noises, no wet things. You just basically described seventy percent of my personality,” Lance teased. “But all jokes aside, I’ll try to remember that.”

“Thanks,” Keith said weakly.

The rest of their walk home was quiet, but thankfully not awkward. Keith was antsy, and somewhat irritated at himself, but Lance didn’t seem to pick up on it. Or at least, if he did, he was gracious enough to not draw attention to it. He walked Keith all the way to the front of his dorm building before leaving with a smile and a wave.

Shiro was in bed with Keith got up to his room, which he was glad for. He didn’t have the energy to recap everything that had happened. He tiptoed into his own room and shut the door behind him, not even bothering to turn on the light. He headed straight for his bed and collapsed onto it, staring blankly at the ceiling as negative thoughts swarmed his brain- he had messed it up in the end, he was too weird, why couldn’t he just be normal? He started getting so frustrated to the point he wanted to tug on his hair and cry, but then he remembered the understanding in Lance’s voice, and the warm smile he gave Keith before leaving for his own dorm. He felt a wave of calm wash over him- he hadn’t messed anything up, Lance was a good guy, and he understood where Keith was coming from even if he didn’t personally experience it himself. Keith sighed with happiness and tugged one of his pillows close, falling asleep faster than he had in weeks.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes hello  
> sorry again for the wait, finals are kicking my ass ngl   
> i hope you enjoy this chapter.

“Lance! Phone away, you know the rules.”

He scrambled to shove his phone back into the pocket of his jacket, smiling sheepishly at the teacher and shooting out an apology. Normally he was a good student in this class; it was marine biology, what wasn’t to love? Lately, though, he had been distracted. Actually, distracted didn’t even begin to cover it.

He stared at the slideshow that was being projected onto the screen, completely lost as to what topic they were covering. Something about… ecosystems? Hell, he couldn’t even bring himself to focus on the letters on the screen. His phone buzzed and he cast a furtive glance around him. Satisfied that no one was looking, he slid it out of his pocket and unlocked the screen.

_Ok but like, I don’t think it’s impossible to throw up while upside down, just a lot harder and more uncomfortable._

He had to physically restrain himself from dissolving into snorts. He absolutely could not believe he had managed to coax Keith into having this discussion with him.

_I think you’re wrong. Something in the body would kick in somewhere and stop you from puking all over your face._

_Ok look I didn’t wanna bring this up but I have personal experience with this and im telling you its possible to puke upside down._

He couldn’t stop his wheeze in time. The girl sitting next to him gave Lance a strange look but returned to paying attention to the lecture.

_ok you cant just say something like that and not give context i demand to hear this story_

Almost two minutes passed before he got a paragraph back from Keith.

_Ugh fine ill tell you but if you repeat this to anyone ill castrate you myself._   
_so like I was at an amusement park because I had free tickets since I had worked there and I was on a date with this girl (trying to run from those Gay Feels) and I already wasn’t feeling good. But she wanted to go on that ride they call the zipper that spins you to fuck and back six different ways and I was like “im no pussy” so I went on it with her. They locked us in the cage together and it was cramped as hell and smelled bad which wasn’t helping, then they started the damn thing and I was just gone man. I was barely holding everything down and then the stupid ride jerked to a stop at the very top while we were upside down and I lost it. Puked all over myself and the girl both, paid to replace her outfit and she never talked to me again. And YES I was upside down and I puked so I can confirm your body has no mercy and it WILL make you puke all over your own face, as well as the face of the girl next to you._

Lance lost it; he broke into uproarious laughter in the middle of a nearly silent classroom, much to the annoyance of his classmates and the fury of his professor.

“Lance! What, exactly, is so funny about ocean pollution?”

“Nothing, ma’am,” he choked out, fighting a losing battle to keep the grin off his face.

“Then why the hell are you laughing?”

“I- I’d rather not say.”

“If you tell me why you’re laughing I’ll let it go, but if you don’t fill me in and stop disrupting my class I’ll dock your test score by a letter grade.”

That sobered him up; he had managed to snag an A on that test and if he lost points on it his grade would suffer quite a bit. “Well,” he started, pausing to take a gulp. “I, uh… I just found out that on one of the last dates my boyfriend went on, he managed to vomit all over himself and his date.”

The teacher let out an exasperated sigh. “And this is funny, why?”

Lance felt a cluster of giggles bubbling up in the back of his throat. “He was upside down,” he wheezed.

She buried her face in her hand. “I don’t understand college boys, at all. But a deal is a deal. If you can keep quiet the rest of the class I won’t drop your grade.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to burst into another fit of laughter. As soon as the professor’s back was turned, his phone was back in his hands.

_I ALMOST JUST GOT MY GRADE DROPPED BECAUSE I WAS LAUGHING SO HARD MY TEACHER IS SO MAD_

_I swear to god youre lucky im not there_

Instead of an actual response, Lance sent one of his many saved dog memes. Doubting his ability to maintain both a conversation with Keith as well as a straight face, he turned off his screen and put his phone away, fully intending to leave it in his pocket this time. Even without the added distraction of his phone, he still couldn’t concentrate on the lesson. Part of his brain was thinking about all of his finals coming up, another was thinking about Keith, and yet another was mentally rehashing his conversation with the teacher. It was the third part that made him stop in his tracks and lose any semblance of focus he had.

He had called Keith his boyfriend. A smile crept across his face and he felt a warmth bloom in his chest. He bit his lip and twined his fingers together in his lap. Were they boyfriends? He would like to think they were. Their first date had gone well enough to warrant a second date at their local Steak and Shake, where Keith prompted to eat so many chicken fingers that he looked like he had a personal vendetta against them. The two of them also shared a strawberry milkshake, then Keith proceeded to spend the next forty minutes suffering in the bathroom because he had forgotten his pills. Evidently that date had gone well too, because they also decided to go picnicking in one of the small parks nestled in their campus. Keith had shrieked when he bit into his sandwich and discovered the trail of ants that had found their way into his food, making Lance laugh so hard he had shot Pepsi out of his nose. Besides all the planned dates, Lance had started making it a habit to spend his free time hanging out at the campus Starbucks when he knew Keith had a shift. They also had plans to go see a movie that Friday night as well.

That was several dates, sure, but did that mean they were  _dating?_ Lance squirmed in his seat, fussing over the question. Finally deciding he couldn’t take the suspense anymore, he pulled out his phone and sent Keith a text.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith let out a grunt as he rose from the ground, sweating after a set of sit-ups. He was locked in his dorm room, doing simple exercises not only as part of his regimen but also as a way to keep his mind occupied. He dropped back down to the floor, wincing when his sweaty back made contact with the cold tile.

He huffed as he lay there, staring at the ceiling. He had a thousand and one things he needed to be doing- studying for finals, finishing his term paper, working on his painting, and trying to balance his budget to figure out how he was going to pay for everything this month- but instead he tried to keep himself busy by working out and texting Lance. He knew full well he was procrastinating, but couldn’t bring himself to care enough to actually pull himself away to work. His stomach let out a faint growl and he sighed. Might as well get up to rummage through his cabinets and see if he had anything to eat.

A quick search rewarded him with a stale granola bar, two packages of cheap fruit snacks, and a half eaten sleeve of crackers. Better than starving, but not by much. He tipped the package of crackers back and dumped some into his mouth, already wandering back towards his room before Shiro could come outside and catch Keith in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His toes curled against the chill of the floor, making Keith furrow his eyebrows. Florida had finally gotten the cold spell he had been wishing for, but he was surprisingly unhappy about it. There had been no gradual shift; one day the low was in the seventies, and the next morning he woke up and it was mid-forties. Absolutely ridiculous- this hell state made no sense.

He decided that he should probably do something besides continue leaving sweat slicks all over his floor and pulled on a sports bra and a dark red cropped sweatshirt. He took his hair out of its messy bun and shook it while stuffing half of the granola bar into his mouth in one bite. God, what he would give to have a huge juicy hamburger at that moment.

He picked his phone up off the floor and noticed the message icon at the top of the screen. Probably Lance again, following up with some other ridiculous topic, or maybe more pictures of dogs. He seemed to have a lot of those saved.

_Hey can I ask you a question? Not a bad one I swear_

Keith felt his blood run cold. In his experience, that type of phrasing normally led to a really, really bad question.

_yeah whats up_

He took a deep breath and shoved an entire package of fruit snacks into his mouth; they had all fused into one multicolored lump, anyway.

_So um I was thinking about stuff and I just wanted to figure some stuff out and you don’t have to answer right away if you don’t want to but uh are we dating???_

He sucked in another breath and felt his heart start jackhammering in his chest. “Oh no,” he groaned out loud. He was hoping to avoid this for as long as possible.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Lance- he did- or that he didn’t enjoy spending time with him- which, again, he did- but dating brought in all sorts of complications that Keith didn’t like. He didn’t like commitment; it was as plain and simple as that. When he was younger he tried forming so many bonds only to have them broken and ripped away from him, and as he grew older he shut himself off. He knew that. He had been to therapy over it, and discussed it at length. He had even come to terms with it. But the one thing he couldn’t bring himself to do was get past it. He had been on lots of dates, kissed people, even had a few drunken one night stands when he got really self destructive and abandoned his standards. But never in his 21 years had he ever had an actual steady relationship.

He sat down on his bed and buried his face in his hands. This wasn’t fair. Everything had been going great the way it was, and he would have loved to continue the way they were. But he should have known that sooner or later this would come up. Lance was a flirt, sure, but from what Keith had observed it was all a façade. What Lance really wanted was some sappy relationship with a steady girlfriend or boyfriend. Keith knew that. He understood that halfway through their second date when Lance brought up his parents and their whirlwind romance and lasting commitment. He didn’t talk about it as if it was something he wanted, no. It was more than that. He talked about their love story with stars in his eyes and a wavering note of expectation in his voice that made it clear it was something that, in the long run, Lance  _needed._ He would never be the type of guy to be happy settling for anything less.

Keith knew that.

Normally, it was something that would’ve scared him. It would’ve made him come up with a flimsy excuse to leave and find a ride home with a promise of another date, only to never talk to the other person again. But at the time, he found Lance’s honest desire… endearing. It was charming, and almost childlike in nature. The sort of thing that would normally be a huge turn-off for Keith. Yet at the time, it wasn’t just endearing. It was contagious.

There was something about Lance that brought out parts of Keith that he had thought were long dead and buried. He convinced Keith to do things outside of his comfort zone, unearthed the parts of Keith that were reckless and impulsive, but not dangerous. Made him feel like he was getting back the parts of growing up that he had missed out on. Even if Lance hadn’t made Keith feel like that, Keith knew what he was getting into. He watched Lance’s face light up and transform into something else while he talked about love, and instead of backing out when he had the chance, he decided to take a step forward and keep going, knowing full well what proverbial waters he was dipping his toes into.

That was probably the part that scared Keith the most.

He lifted his head and let a huff out through his nose. Almost twenty minutes has passed while he had been indulging in his mental tug of war. Even though Lance had said Keith didn’t have to respond yet if he didn’t want to, Keith knew very well that Lance was probably bouncing his legs like a jackrabbit and checking his phone every five seconds. The boy had the patience of a puppy at times.

_Yeah_

That was all he sent, choosing to keep it simple. There was no need to get flowery, or to allude to the internal struggle he had just gone through. Mincing words just wasn’t his thing.

_Keith you just made my heart bust a nut_

He let out a groan that quickly dissolved into a laugh deep enough to shake his shoulders.

_I gotta go, I have stuff to do, but_   
_text me later, yeah?_

_Absolutely :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah i decided to have them put a label on it, but dont worry- their adventures are far from over. i plan on having them explore themselves and their relationship, progress, and realize that just because you really really like someone it doesnt mean your relationship will be all roses and picnic dates  
> now that theyre officially an item i feel more comfortable exploring the platonic relationships around them as well- this is where other characters POVs start to come in as well.   
> also note that this fic doesnt have a rating, as im still undecided about the content. i want to bring up heavier themes and explore more serious aspects of their developing relationship, but im still unsure as to how far into detail ill go so please keep that in mind. tags will, of course, update with any significant content  
> also you cant tell me that these two idiot boys wouldnt have an argument about whether or not you can puke upside down theyre dumb college kids


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shiro gets a dog and keith joins the garrison trio groupchat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! sorry for the long wait... again. im getting back on track though, so expect frequent updates again  
> thank you for the encouragement!!! every comment, kudos, message, etc really helps fuel me on :) and ive even made a couple new friends from this fic!  
> as always i appreciate suggestions, and youre welcome to come yell at me @closetgeekasaurus on tumblr :D

Keith carefully examined his reflection in the mirror, trying to determine if the hair on his upper lip was darker or thicker than it was the last time he shaved it. It seemed to be growing in a little more, but it could just be wishful thinking. He had been on testosterone shots for almost two months now and wasn’t seeing a lot of changes, although he was starting to get slightly hairier. He was torn as to whether or not he should bother shaving it or leave it and risk looking like a 14 year old hobo.

“Hey Shiro,” he said, pushing open the other man’s door. “Do you think I should-“ He stopped in his tracks, startled into silence at the sight of a humongous panting dog in Shiro’s arms. “Uh, what’s this?”

Shiro gave Keith a sheepish grin. “This is Lulu. She’s, uh… she’s my support dog.”

“She’s big.”

“I mean, I guess so. She’s a Pyrenean Mastiff.”

“Since when do you have a support dog?”

“Since her paperwork went through this morning.”

She was large and fluffy, almost entirely white except for a tan spot on her front leg. She seemed overall calm, but then again, Keith had only seen her for about thirty seconds.

“Uh… how much does she weigh?”

“Oh, I don’t know… I think about 190 pounds?”

Keith nearly choked on his own spit. “Shiro, she weighs more than I do.”

Shiro laughed and rubbed the top of the dog’s head, ruffling her ears. “I know. But don’t worry, she doesn’t jump.” Lulu’s tail thumped against the floor and her tongue lolled out of her mouth. “She’s a good dog.”

“So… what does she do? Like, how does she support you?”

Shiro’s brow furrowed. “She’s a companion animal. She’s also trained to recognize when I get panic attacks and help me calm down. She knows some simple commands too, like bringing things back to me when I ask.” His voice was quiet, as if he didn’t want to admit that he needed her for something other than simple companionship.

“Sounds like a smart dog. Am I allowed to pet her?”

“Of course,” he said quickly, finally unwrapping his arms from around her. “Lulu, go,” he ordered, pointing at Keith. The massive ball of fluff meandered over to Keith and dropped to her side in front of his feet. He reached down to scratch at her tummy.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Who’s a good girl? It’s you, you are.” He couldn’t help himself and dropped down to his knees to scratch her more efficiently. “I like her,” he declared.

Shiro smiled, phone raised to take a photo. Keith scowled at the lens, refusing to let his soft side be caught on camera.

“Show that picture to anyone and your prosthetic will go missing.”

Shiro burst into loud laughter. “Brutal. Also, when’s the last time you shaved? You’re looking a little scruffy.”

He reached up to brush his fingers over his face. “Oh, am I? I dunno, a couple weeks.”

Shiro shook his head. “If I went a couple weeks without shaving I’d look like a drowned rat. Must be nice to not have to shave every day.”

Keith grinned and continued to scratch at the hairs growing in on his face. “I wish it would grow in a little faster. I should go shave.” He gave Lulu one last pat before rising to his feet and heading into their shared bathroom.

He concentrated on the glide of the razor over his chin, trying not to cut himself. He still wasn’t very good at doing it, and the sight of his own blood tended to make him a little squeamish. Right as he pulled the blade away from his face, his phone vibrated and fell into the sink, making him jump.

A quick inspection showed him a text from a number he didn’t recognize, containing only the question:

_hey does mike wazowski from monsters inc blink or wink_

He stared at the screen, puzzled. Who on earth would send him something like that? His first thought was Lance, but he had Lance’s number saved into his phone. His phone went off again, another message popping up on the screen.

_oh its pidge btw_

He snorted and shook his head. Of course. Lance must have given her Keith’s number. He might as well reply.

_Both and neither. He bwinks._

He rinsed off the razor and set it back on the edge of the sink, compulsively checking his phone after he was finished.

_HE BWINKS_   
_OH FUCK_   
_KETH YOURE A GENIUS_

He shrugged and put his phone away, not even bothering to question the context behind Pidge’s messages. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last of the strange questions. He headed back to his room to change into workout clothes, fully intending to go to the gym, when his phone started sporadically vibrating.

_Lance: KEITH YOURE IN THE GROUP CHAT NOW_

_Hunk: oh boy I feel bad for him :(_

_Pidge: MIKE WAZOWSKI FUCKN BWINKS_

_Lance: Keith did u seriously meme pidge_

_Lance: Keith u gotta answer me man im thortsy for knowledge_

He raised an eyebrow and read some of the backlog before responding.

_Keith: What's thortsy_

_Lance: thirsty***_

_Lance: also you wanna come hang out in our dorm we have lots o junk food_

_Keith: are you guys all texting each other from the same room_

_Hunk: yep_

_Pidge: yea_

_Lance: uh duhhhh what else is a groupchat for come over to our building ill send pidge downstairs to let you in_

_Pidge: no you wont I am not fucking moving from this bed if you want him over so bad then you go let him in_

_Pidge: also did anyone else hear that screaming from the hallway or have I just been awake for too long_

_Lance: no I heard it too_

_Hunk: Im deaf_

_Lance: HUNK OASDFDJB_

_Keith: why is that so funny I don’t get it_

_Pidge: He’s literally deaf and keeps making horrible jokes about it_

_Keith: one time shiro scared me and I pulled a knife on him and he yelled “relax im unarmed” and threw his prosthetic down on the floor_

_Pidge: FUCK_

_Pidge: WHAT THE FUCK THAT’S COMEDY GOLD_

_Hunk: is no one else questioning why keiths first response was KNIFE_

_Lance: wait shiro has a prosthetic????_

_Keith: yeah and he got a dog today too shes a monster_

_Pidge: define monster_

_Keith: she looks like an avalanche and weighs almost 200 pounds_

_Pidge: I love her_

_Hunk: She could crush you_

_Pidge: IM LOV HER_

_Lance: enough about monster dogs keith are you coming over or not????_

He pushed his hair out of his face and pursed his lips, considering the question. He was dressed for the gym, but surely gym clothes could double as chill clothes. Plus, as dedicated as he was to staying fit and building muscle, he _really_ wanted to eat something other than microwaved noodles, no matter how greasy and unhealthy it might be.

_Keith: yeah sure I'll head over but I warn you I plan on eating a lot_

_Lance: good because we have a lot of food_

He grinned and shoved his phone and keys in his pockets.

“Hey Shiro,” he called, inching into the other man’s room. He looked down to find Shiro laying on the floor, Lulu on top of him and almost entirely engulfing him with her mass. “I’m gonna head over to Lance’s. You, uh, okay down there?”

“I’m fantastic. Have fun, stay out of trouble,” was his muffled response. Keith snorted and left, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive seen a lot of stuff on tumblr recently about Give Shiro a Dog 2k18 and I came to deliver


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith hangs out with the garrison trio and they have an "emotional fuckfest" (open up and be real with each other)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, not as long of a wait this time! its also a longer chapter :0   
> instead of updating with another chapter next, I might do some indepth backstories of some of the characters as separate works in the series, so keep your eyes out for that as it will be coming one way or another  
> also, WARNING for t-slur and f-slur in passing in regards to keith towards the end of the chapter, just so you know

Lance was bouncing on the balls of his feet outside of his dorm building when Keith approached, looking around excitedly while he waited for Keith’s arrival.

“Hey,” Keith said warmly, raising a hand. Lance’s eyes flitted over to him and lit up with glee.

“Hey!” He rushed over to Keith, looking like he was going to wrap the other boy in a hug, but stopped short. “Right, sorry, no touching.”

“You can hold my hand if you want,” Keith offered, holding out a gloved hand.

Lance grinned with delight and pressed their palms together. “I very much want to,” he admitted. “I thought you didn’t like to hold hands?”

“I’m wearing my gloves. I wasn’t last time,” he explained. “I don’t really like touching much of anything without my gloves.”

Lance nodded in understanding. “Well let’s get inside, I’m freezing my balls off out here.” A closer inspection showed that he was ducking his neck inside of his jacket and shivering slightly. “I thought Florida was supposed to be eternal summer, and here it is 40 degrees! It makes me wanna scream.”

Keith laughed and tucked his free hand into his sweatshirt. “I like it. It’s a nice change of pace.”

“Yeah? Does it get cold where you’re from? Say, where are you from anyway?”

“Arizona. You?”

“Well I was born in Cuba and spent a while there but then we moved to Miami, but we still go back to visit a lot. We still have family there and all that.”

“Sounds nice,” Keith admitted. Lance pressed the button for the elevator and looked up at the changing numbers. “So, what’s on the junk food menu?”

“Oh, lots of stuff,” Lance assured him. “We ordered breadsticks and wings and garlic knots and pizza, plus we have, like, chips and soda and cookies.”

Keith’s mouth watered at the thought of all the greasy and unhealthy but delicious food. “God, that sounds amazing. I’m starving. All I’ve eaten for the last few days are microwaved noodles.”

Lance made a disgruntled face as they stepped into the elevator. “Dude, that sucks. Are you sure you’re human? Because I couldn’t live off that.”

“That’s debatable.” Keith pursed his lips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve lived off worse.”

Lance shook his head as the elevator doors opened. “I don’t know how you’re alive. Either way, you better eat your fill tonight.” He pushed open a door that had stickers of gears, aliens, and palm trees all over it, as well as a whiteboard that said “MERRY DICKMAS” on it in multicolored lettering.

“What’s it going to say after Christmas?” Keith asked, pointing at the whiteboard.

“It’s still going to say Merry Dickmas. Pidge wrote it in Sharpie while she was high one night.”

Keith wheezed as Lance stepped aside to reveal the interior of his dorm.

Pidge paused in her tracks, a donut almost touching her lips, and after a moment Hunk noticed and looked quizzically at the door.

“Hi Keith!” Hunk said, raising a hand and waving. “Do you want a breadstick?” He held one out in offering.

“Hell yes I do,” Keith said, walking over to take it out of Hunk’s hand. Half of it disappeared into his mouth. Lance made a choked noise and Pidge snorted in response.

“Tonight, we eat like nongendered monarchs,” Hunk informed him solemnly. “If you leave here and your stomach doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode, you’re a god among insects.”

“God, I love feast nights,” Lance moaned, reaching around Keith to get a slice of pizza from the box on Hunk’s desk. “I have such a fucking boner for nights like this.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up as Pidge scoffed. “Lance, you get a boner over anything vaguely organic.”

“Oh yeah? Well at least I don’t get a boner over a new graphics card for my laptop.”

Pidge’s pale face was quickly covered in bright red splotches. “Okay, that was one time, and it wasn’t over the graphics card, it just happened to coincide with the timing of-“

“Bullshit! You pulled that thing out of the packaging and your eyes rolled into the back of your head!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Well I don’t know about you guys,” Hunk interrupted. “But I get boners over normal things like pretty girls and stuff, not over food and graphics cards, and I don’t talk about what I get boners over in front of our guest.” He gestured at Keith, the guest in question.

“Except you just did,” Pidge pointed out. “You said you got boners over pretty girls.”

“Well shit,” he said, coming to the realization that Pidge was in fact correct.

“I get boners over pretty girls too,” Lance offered.

“Same,” Pidge agreed.

“Is this normal?” Keith asked, eyes darting between the three of them.

“Oh, absolutely,” Lance assured him. “Why do you think I get along so well with them?”

“You could get along with a rock if it could tolerate you.”

“Wow Keith, that’s cold, even for you.”

“He’s got a point,” Pidge said. Lance offered his pizza crust to her. She took it and started nibbling on the ends. “I once watched you hold a conversation with a street performer painted to look like a statue, only for you to realize twenty minutes in that he was actually a statue.”

Keith turned his burst of laughter into a coughing fit. Lance glared at him and stuck out his tongue.

“Okay, but at least I actually talk to people other than my roommate.”

“Excuse you?’ Keith raised an eyebrow. “Was that supposed to be directed at me?”

‘Uh yeah. Shiro was like, your only friend before me.”

“That’s- that’s not true,” Keith insisited.

“Name one other friend then,” Lance said, crossing his arms.

“Uh, Allura?”

“Who you know through Shiro. She doesn’t count, find someone else.”

Keith opened his mouth only to draw a blank. “I- oh fuck, fuck you, fuck off.” Lance started laughing while Keith crossed the room, throwing himself onto Lance’s bed, which was easily identifiable by the plush shark propped up near the pillows. “You’re a dick.” He dug around in his pockets, not entirely sure what he was searching for but knowing he wanted something to do with his hands. He dropped his keys on the table next to Lance’s bed before pulling out his headphones and starting to untangle them.

“Someone’s butthurt,” Pidge snickered. “Hunk, pass the Chips Ahoy.” He ignored her and continued typing on his phone, a smile spreading across his face. “Hunk, don’t be a dick. Hunk!”

Lance rolled his eyes and stomped a couple of times on the floor. Hunk looked up and glanced around before his eyes settled on Lance. “What’s up?”

“Pidge was trying to get your attention.”

“Oh, sorry! What did you want?” He turned to her with full attention.

“The Chips Ahoy. Put your hearing aids in while we’re hanging out, buddy.”

“Nah, don’t feel like it,” he said, reaching to pass the box to her.

“Well fine! Next time I’ll just throw something at you,” she grumbled before sticking her tongue out at him.

“Actually, the batteries died. They’re charging.” He gestured at his desk. “Kinda wish I hadn’t gone with the Lithium-ion ones, because I can’t put a disposable battery in while the main one is charging. Oh well.” He shrugged and smiled.

“Wait, you guys weren’t kidding about him being deaf?” Keith’s eyes flickered between the three of them.

“Um, no?” Lance laughed. “He actually is. Has hearing aids and everything.”

“We normally tell things pretty straight,” Pidge added. “Except, of course, our sexualities. That’s not straight.”

“I’m bi,” Lance interrupted proudly.

“So am I, genius.”

“I thought you were a lesbian?” Hunk tilted his head in confusion.

“Um, no? I’m a big bundle of queer, in case you haven’t noticed. I just think sex is kinda freaky. And not in a good way,” she added, seeing Lance’s suggestive expression. “I just tend to notice girls more, I guess. But I like guys too.”

“Oh, cool. I didn’t know that. I’m pan!” Hunk grinned before turning to Keith. “What about you? I know you’re dating Lance but like, are you part of the Bi-Hards too?”

Keith couldn’t help but snort at the silly name. “I mean, I’m not really sure. I like guys… a lot. Like, a lot. But I’ve been with girls. And once I went on a few dates with this really cool enby, they taught me how to give tattoos,” he trailed off.

“Wait wait wait,” Lance said, sitting up straight. “You know how to give tattoos?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we see?” Pidge leaned forward, perched on the edge of her seat.

“Sure, hold on. I think I have some photos saved.” He rummaged in his pockets again, hand closing around a rectangle in his pocket. He pulled it out and frowned when he saw it was a pack of cigarettes and not his phone. “That’s not it,” he mumbled, throwing the pack onto the bed.

“You _smoke?_ ” Lance shrieked.

Keith winced. “Like, one or two a week at most. Please don’t lecture me.”

Lance stared at him in shock as Pidge let out a low whistle. “Ooo Lance, looks like you’ve got yourself a _real_ badboy this time. Tattoos, cigarettes, piercings and long hair? He’s the real deal.”

“I also used to have an old motorcycle,” he added absentmindedly, unlocking his phone. “Since you’re keeping track of the badboy stereotypes. Wait, shit, all the photos were on my old phone. I can’t show you anything good, only my ankles.”

“Wait, you _have_ tattoos?” Lance craned his neck as if to see any visible ink, despite all of Keith’s skin being covered.

“Yeah, did them myself earlier this year.”

“You have tattoo stuff?” Pidge perked up even more.

“Not exactly,” he admitted. “They’re stick and poke.”

“What’s that?” Lance asked.

“It’s how they tattoo in prison,” Keith explained.

Lance’s face paled. “Please tell me you haven’t been in prison.”

Keith snorted. “As if. You think they’d let me in on a full-ride scholarship if I’d been in prison? Closest thing I experienced was foster care.” He immediately closed his mouth, mentally cursing himself for revealing too much. It was a bit early to drop the foster care bomb on Lance. “Anyway,” he blurted, rolling up his pant legs slightly. “This is all I have to show you.” He turned his legs and showed the trio an eye on the inside of one ankle and a crescent moon on the inside of the other.

“Cool,” Pidge breathed.

“Why were you in foster care?” Hunk asked.

Keith pressed his lips together, resisting the urge to let out a swear. “I don’t wanna talk about it. I didn’t mean to bring that up.”

“Bro-code,” Lance blurted.

“Wh-?” Keith started to ask what Lance was talking about but was interrupted by Pidge and Hunk echoing Lance’s statement.

“What the hell do you mean, bro-code?” Keith asked.

“We have a rule for situations like this, that if someone like, oversteps a boundary or make someone uncomfortable we all have to like, get really real with each other. Make sense?”

“Not really.”

“It’s like- you said something about yourself that you obviously didn’t really want us knowing yet, so we have to do something similar so you don’t feel weird.”

Keith scrunched up his face. “You guys really don’t have to do that.”

“Uh, yeah we do. It’s bro-code,” Hunk said. Lance agreed with a solemn nod. “I’ll start. Um… Oh, I don’t think Pidge knows this, and I know Keith doesn’t- I’m deaf because right after I got my license, I was goofing off and got in a really bad car crash.” He smiled wistfully.

“What? You’re the best driver out of all of us, though!” Pidge stared at him in shock.

Hunk couldn’t help but laugh. “Crippling anxiety of hurting one of your friends will make you pretty vigilant! Jokes aside though, my hearing was already kind of shitty before the crash, it just kind of finished the job.” He turned to Lance. “You next?”

Lance nodded. “Ok. Ok, jeez. Hunk knows this, Pidge might have figured it out? But I have both dyslexia _and_ dyscalculia, so I’m bad at letters and numbers. It makes me feel really stupid- I can’t even read an analog clock most of the time,” he confessed. “It takes me forever to read anything, I got fired from my last job because I couldn’t make change for the customers right, and sometimes I even switch up my right and left because of it.” He hung his head as Keith watched in horror; he was honestly worried Lance was going to start crying.

“Aw, buddy. You’re not stupid,” Pidge assured him. “I’m gonna be honest, I think you’re a freaking genius- you’re really smart, and you’re doing all the stuff you do while dealing with that, too? That’s huge, man.”

He looked up and gave her a weak smile. “You really think so?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for years,” Hunk said, lightly punching Lance in the shoulder.

“My turn, I guess,” Pidge said, taking a deep breath. “Lance knows mine, and I’m just gonna come right out and say it- I’m trans.”

Keith’s eyes shot up and he felt his heart start pounding in his chest. Fuck, Pidge was trans too? He ran his eyes over her carefully, trying to figure out if he had been using the wrong pronouns for her.

“A trans girl,” she added. “So, like, Lance really wasn’t kidding about the boner joke,” she laughed. “Uh…. I’ve known since I was pretty little. I wanted to wear a dress to my first day of preschool- Mom didn’t let me, but she _did_ let me do it in kindergarten, and wear bows in my hair too.” She smiled wryly. “I’m lucky though, my family is all really supportive. I used to have long hair, but for a while I kinda freaked out and thought something was wrong with me, and that I just needed to be a boy, so I basically got a buzzcut. That’s why it’s so short now, because when it started growing out I realized I kinda liked it being choppy and stuff.”

Keith listened in wonder as the other three bonded over their shared confessions. No wonder they were all so close- it was obvious that they supported each other through thick and thin. Hell, they probably would trust each other with their lives.

He sat awkwardly on Lance’s bed, feeling removed from the situation. Trust and opening up was hard for him, yet they were doing it like it was nothing. On top of that, all he did was make a passing comment. They had all elaborated and given backstories, and all for the sake of making sure Keith didn’t feel uncomfortable.

He remembered the words of countless therapists (and Shiro, who, in Keith’s opinion, was doing a better job than any therapist he had ever had). They were always saying that he needed to stop being so guarded.

“I-“ he started quietly, drawing Lance, Hunk, and Pidge’s attention to himself. He swallowed thickly, feeling the rise of nausea and mild panic in his throat. “I’ve been in foster care since I was eleven or twelve. My mom died when I was six. My dad left almost six years later. I guess he couldn’t handle having a-“ He almost slipped up and insulted himself, parroting the words he had heard countless times over the years, but managed to stop himself just in time. He didn’t think his present company would enjoy hearing Keith call himself a ‘tranny faggot.’ Plus, despite Pidge’s admission, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell them that he was trans as well. “Having me for a kid anymore,” he ended lamely. “I lived with his parents for a couple months, but they didn’t really want me either, so.” He shrugged and stared out the window, fighting the burn in his eyes.

“Aw, Keith.” Hunk made a warbled noise. “That’s so sad.”

He heard sniffing and glanced back at them, shocked when he saw tears on all three faces. “Fuck!” He yelled, scrambling off the bed and searching for a box of tissues. “Jesus, don’t cry, I can’t handle it if you cry. It’s not so bad, I have- I got by fine, I’m here now,” he babbled.

“I can’t imagine what I’d do without my family, or if my mom died,” Lance whined. “I love my mom!”

“I love my mom too,” Hunk agreed, pulling the elusive box of tissues out of his desk drawer and passing it around.

“It’s fine,” Keith insisted, wringing his hands. “Please stop crying or I’m going to leave.”

Lance gave a final loud sniff and stood up, planting his hands on his hips. “Keith’s right. No more crying, it’ll dry out my skin.”

“Please don’t-“ Pidge started.

Lance ignored her and continued on his spiel. “And I can’t have my skin drying out. And frankly, none of you can afford it either.”

“Noooo,” she groaned, eyes still red-rimmed.

“Which means that we’re going to do face masks.”

She let out a strangled noise.

“And then we’re gonna paint our nails or some shit.”

Keith stared at Lance with revulsion. “I think I’d rather deal with the waterworks.”

“Too late. I’ll get my basket.”

Multiple face treatments and a set of fire-engine red nails later, Keith decided that maybe the spa night was better than the emotional fuckfest after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, a reminder,,,,, if anyone takes offense or thinks im not writing/handling something correctly in this fic, feel free to tell me in a comment or in a message on tumblr (@closetgeekasaurus) because the last thing i want to do is misrepresent something or accidentally be an ass ydg  
> also that being said if you just wanna come yell at me about my fic or voltron in general feel free!!! I made a couple cool friends through this fic and I am literally always down for messages so :^D  
> and if you like trans keith i have another work that i did for the general big bang back in january thats set in canonverse, and i might be expanding on that soon too (Its called Unsettled)   
> i also had someone ask me if they could do art for my fic and god bless yes you can i will literally cry


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith has a study session with friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very long chapter!!! over twice as long as any other chapter  
> things are finally starting to get moving..... i hope you enjoy!  
> TW for description of piercings and tattooing- nothing very graphic but a warning just in case that bugs you

Keith grumbled in frustration as he prodded at his lip with the steel post, wincing when he moved too quickly.

“Keith, what are you doing in there?” Shiro called through the open bathroom door.

“Piercing my lip,” he called back before stabbing the jewelry at his skin with a grunt. He heard shuffling, and shortly after saw Shiro’s frame behind him through the mirror.

“You’re what-ing your what now?”

“Piercing my lip,” Keith repeated calmly, managing to shove the stud halfway through. “The hole kinda closed up but I think I can get it through.” He gave one last push, and with a trickle of blood and a sharp prick of pain, he managed to reopen the old hole. He grinned and turned around to show his friend, gesturing to it with a flourish. “Told you I could get it.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow and raised his arm to scratch at the stump of his elbow. Keith was getting more used to seeing the man without his prosthetic, and it seemed like Shiro was growing more accustomed to letting Keith see him without it. “What prompted this? Also, don’t you think that was a little reckless?”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Keith said, waving his hand in dismissal before turning to examine his reflection in the mirror. He picked up a tiny bottle of saltwater and took a swig, swishing it around in his mouth before spitting it out and dumping some over the outside of his lip as well. “But to answer your first question, I decided I missed having it and my manager said I could repierce it. So, here we are.” Unable to resist the temptation, he reached up to twist it in place, delighted at the sting he felt.

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with the conversation I overheard Lance having?”

Keith slowly turned around to see Shiro smirking and crossing his arms- well, arm. “What conversation?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just how he thinks guys with lip piercings are really, really hot.”

Keith’s eyebrows shot up and he felt the tips of his ears turn hot. “Does he? I wasn’t aware.”

Shiro snorted. “Wait, I have an idea, hold still.” He took out his phone and raised it, aiming the camera at Keith. “Smile.”

“Wait, what?”

Shiro took the picture regardless of Keith’s expression. He bent down next to him to show him the screen, captioning it “look what keith did to his lip” before opening his Snapchat contacts and sending it to Lance, who had decided it was a good idea to make his username “Lancey Lance” and surround it with blue hearts and sparkling emojis.

Keith was dumbstuck. “You have a Snapchat?”

“Yes? Why?”

“I don’t know, you seem a little… old for one.”

“God Keith, what do you think I am, 40? I’m only 26 for Pete’s sake.” He scoffed. “Besides, you’re 21 and you _don’t_ have one.”

“I don’t need one,” he insisted, already familiar with this argument thanks to Lance. “If I need to talk to someone I’ll just text them instead of using three different apps and filters and pictures and emojis to do it.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Stop being such a hipster.”

“Ok, I am _not_ a hipster, first of all, and second of all, me not having social media doesn’t make me a hipster.”

“It kinda does,” he said, eyes already back on his phone. “Okay so Lance opened it but he hasn’t said anything yet, so-“ Keith’s phone chimed twice from his pocket, distracting both of them. Shiro gave him a wicked grin. “That’s probably him now.”

Keith groaned and opened the groupchat that Lance and company had dragged him into.

_Lance: IS IT TRUE  
_ _Lance: SHIRO JUST SNAPPED ME A PHOTO OF YOU WITH A LIP PIERCING IS IT REAL_

_Pidge: wait since when does keith have a lip piercing_

_Keith: since I was 14_

_Lance: THEN WHY HAVENT YOU BEEN WEARING IT_

_Keith: because I had to take it out for a while and I just got around to putting it back in??_

He glanced up at Shiro and gave him a dirty look. “They’re all pestering me now, thanks.”

He snorted in response. “You’re welcome. By the way, Allura wants to know if you’ve been studying for finals.”

Keith’s mouth scrunched up into a pucker. “Ask her if she’s been eating your ass,” he responded sourly, pushing his way out of the bathroom. Shiro started sputtering and turned around, flustered. Keith smirked at him before disappearing into the safety of his own room and shutting the door behind him.

_Hunk: do you have any other piercings we don't know about?_

_Pidge: yea like do you have a dick piercing_

_Hunk: Pidge!!! That’s rude!!!_

_Keith: no_  
Keith: to the dick piercing I mean  
Keith: I do have other piercings though

_Hunk: where!! If I can ask_

Keith smiled; Hunk was always the most polite out of everyone, even if his initial response was to pry.

_Keith: I actually have 2 lip piercings but im not redoing the other one its too emo_   
_Keith: and I had a nose stud with a retainer in it im surprised none of you have noticed it_   
_Keith: and all the ear piercings of course, and I kept my belly button piercing in_

_Lance: YOU HAVE A BELLY BUTTON PIERCING???? WTF_

_Keith: you don’t think its weird do you?_

He fretted as he watched the screen, absentmindedly reaching under the fabric of his shirt to toy with the dangly metal.

_Pidge: just so you know and don’t think hes ignoring you_   
_Pidge: he doesn’t think its weird_   
_Pidge: he thinks its really hot actually_   
_Pidge: and is basically creaming his pants as we speak_   
_Pidge: anyway any more?_

_Keith’s face flushed at the imagery Pidge had provided him with._

_Keith: I had dermals on my collarbones but they rejected last year but I had them for a long time so they had a good run_

_Pidge: is that it? Cause uhhhh lance gets real hot for piercings and im pretty sure hes gonna explode if you bring up any more_

Keith paused. He and Lance hadn’t even kissed yet, but if he really did have a thing for piercings, and even the thought of a bellybutton piercing had him riled up… Keith’s impulsive side won out and he returned to typing.

_Keith: god if hes like this over tame piercings I would hate to see his reaction to the nipple piercings_

_Pidge: THE WHAT NOW_   
_Pidge: youre fucking KIDDING ME RIGHT_

_Keith: I am not. I have nipple piercings._

_Hunk: what kind? I know theres different kinds and im kinda curious about them_

_Keith: rn I have red metal bar posts in_

_Pidge: lance ran into the bathroom I think you broke him_   
_Pidge: pics?_

“Shit,” Keith said aloud, blood running cold. He should’ve known they’d ask for proof.

_Keith: absolutely not_

_Pidge: aww :(_   
_Pidge: wait shit lance just started screaming did you dm him or something_

_Keith: uh no I certainly did not_

_Lance: TELL SHIRO IM GOING TO KILL HIM_

_Keith: ????_

_Lance: YKNOW HOW HE GRADES PAPERS FOR IVERSON RIGHT_   
_Lance: WELL HE FUCKING FLAGGED MY PAPER AND I JUST GOT CAUGHT FOR PLAGARISM AND IF I DON’T DO ALMOST PERFECT ON THE WRITTEN TEST IM GONNA FAIL IVERSONS STUPID CLASS_

_Pidge: why would he do that??? I know its kind of his job but it seems unlike him_

_Keith: let me ask him hes home rn_

“Hey Shiro?” He called gently, climbing off his bed and heading to Shiro’s room.

“What’s up?” Shiro called back, already pushing open his own door. His face was still very faintly pink. A quick glance around his room showed a couple pieces of laundry on the floor and his dog laying contently by the foot of his bed.

“Uh… Lance wanted to know why you flagged his paper?”

Shiro couldn’t hold back the snort and clapped his hand over his mouth. “Oh god, I wondered when he would notice that.”

“So you knew it was his paper and you flagged it anyway? I get it that you’re supposed to, but… he really has a hard time in school. You really fucked him over.” Keith was normally even tempered with Shiro, but he could feel his skull buzzing and his blood running hot. Shiro noticed the anger and the half-grin disappeared from his face.

“I had to. I was going to let it slide, but… you know how I already took Iverson’s class and wrote such an in-depth paper that they published it?”

“Yeah? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Iverson recognizes my work.”

“Okay? So?” He crossed his arms as he felt his scowl deepen.

“Keith, he copy pasted pieces from my paper. Iverson already knows that I’m connected to Lance, and if I hadn’t flagged it Iverson would’ve put two and two together. It could’ve gotten both of us expelled.”

Keith’s brain stopped in its tracks, leaving his mouth hanging open. “I… ok. I understand. Your hands were tied.”

Shiro sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I already talked to Iverson about it. I told him that I helped Lance with his paper and must have referenced mine too much and he didn’t think to cite it. That’s why he only has a failing grade and not a disciplinary mark.”

Keith let out a noise of relief. “So he’s not in trouble?”

“Oh, no. He’s in trouble. But not serious trouble. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it, I didn’t stop to think that it would come up.”

“It’s ok. Thank you, Shiro, for doing what you could.”

Shiro patted Keith’s shoulder. “Thanks for listening to me and not instantly jumping down my throat. I know that tends to be your first instinct,” he said with a chuckle. “And I know Lance means a lot to you, too.”

Keith’s ears started to heat again. “He’s just a boyfriend,” he mumbled, eyes darting away from Shiro’s gaze.

“Yeah, but I’ve never heard you talk about a boyfriend before. Dates, sure, but never a boyfriend. So he must mean something to you if he’s enough to get you to slow down.”

“Yeah, well-“ Keith sputtered, unable to come up with a decent retort. “God, you’re annoying sometimes.”

Shiro simply laughed. “That’s how you can tell you love me.”

Keith threw a weak punch at his shoulder, which Shiro easily dodged. He huffed and turned on his heel, heading back to his own room. His phone was out before he even had the door shut, explaining the situation to the groupchat.

_Lance: ok I get why he did it but im still pissed_   
_Lance: like don’t get me wrong im glad he also didn’t get me expelled but like he could’ve at least warned me so I didn’t freak out_   
_Lance: im gonna get him back for this_   
_Lance: Pidge do you still have the drill thingy_

_Pidge: yes why???_

_Lance: do you remember the story I told you about what we did to my brothers car_

_Pidge: ohhhhhh my god_   
_Pidge: oh my fuckING GOD are we seriously gonna do that to him_

_Hunk: poor man :( hes gonna cry, youre going to break him_

_Keith: what are you doing to him_

_Lance: im not telling you youll just run off and tattle on us so you aren’t allowed to know_

_Keith: you mentioned a car please don’t vandalize it hes my ride and ill have to suffer too_

_Lance: don’t worry its not like that he can still drive it_

_Hunk: the question is will he WANT to_

Keith frowned at his screen before looking up to see several study guides spread out on his desk. He pursed his lips, knowing that he should be working to ensure his grades on his tests but not wanting to halt the conversation with his friends.

_Keith: hey what are you guys up to_

_Pidge: procrastinating on tumblr_

_Hunk: just got off work, so not much of anything_

_Lance: taking a shit wbu_

He groaned at Lance’s crudeness.

_Keith: im just kinda sitting around and I should really be studying but I don’t want to_

_Pidge: wow, keith, NOT studying??? That’s a shocker_

_Keith: fuck off_   
_Keith: anyway I was thinking because I don’t really feel like being by myself but I know I need to study_   
_Keith: do you guys wanna come over and have a study session or something_

_Pidge: where?_

_Keith: my room_

_Lance: ???? seriously?_

_Keith: uhhh yeah?_

_Hunk: weve never been over to your dorm before, thought maybe you didn’t want us to see it_

_Keith: its just kind of small is all_   
_Keith: are you coming over or not?_

_Lance: lemme finish and pidge and I will leave_   
_Lance: right pidgey?_

_Pidge: yeah sure_

_Hunk: ill come home to change and ill come too!!!_

_Keith: cool the code to get in the back door is 01995_

Keith turned off his screen and stood up, tidying the minimal mess in his room- a pair of boots haphazardly thrown by the door, the various empty water bottles scattered on his desk and next to his bed, and the jacket that had fallen off the back of his chair. He took his small bag of trash out to the garbage can in he and Shiro’s tiny kitchen just as the other man was emerging from his own room.

“Hey, I’m heading over to Matt’s to act like a frat bro and run out his annoying roommate,” he told Keith.

Keith snorted. “Okay man, don’t forget to wear your varsity jacket. I’m having some friends over.”

Shiro mock gasped. “You? Have friends? And you’re inviting them into your lair of solitude?”

“Fuck off,” Keith grumbled. “You are literally the biggest ass I’ve ever met in my life.”

Shiro winked at him and shrugged on his jacket, pulling Lulu’s leash off the nail by the door. He whistled for her and she came bounding in, sitting obediently in front of him, waiting for her leash to be attached. He clipped it on and ruffled the spot between her ears; instantly she was alert and standing, much more attentive now that her leash was on and she was technically on duty. “I’ll see you later, have fun.” He hesitated for a moment before leaving, not bothering to lock the door behind him.

Keith took a steadying breath; despite Shiro’s jokes, he had a point. Keith didn’t normally have friends, much less ones he trusted enough to let into his personal space. If he was being honest with himself, he was rather nervous about having Hunk, Lance, and Pidge over. But it wasn’t like he could just keep them out forever, he didn’t have anything to hide anyway so he might as well just bite the bullet.

He paced around as much as he could, stopping to check and see what was in their fridge. Impulsively, he wondered how much milk he would have to drink so that an upset stomach would be enough of an excuse to cancel their plans. He shook his head and slammed the door shut. “Don’t be stupid,” he muttered to himself. “They’re your friends, there’s nothing to worry about.”

_Lance: Keeeeeeeeith what room number are you_

_Keith: 420_   
_Keith: Just kidding its 318_

_Pidge: ??? did_   
_Pidge: did you just make a fucking weed joke_

_Keith: youre not the only one who dabbles in weed, pidge_   
_Keith: also don’t tell shiro I smoke weed I don’t think hes figured it out yet and idk how he’d feel about me doing it in our dorm_

He was startled away from his phone screen by the sound of banging on his front door.

“ _Keeeeeith_!” Lance called through the door in a falsetto. “It’s the strippers, we brought vodka and cocaine!”

“I’m 21, if I wanted strippers and vodka I’d go out and buy them myself,” he answered, pulling open the door to be greeted by the trio’s smiling faces.

“And what about the cocaine?” Pidge asked accusingly.

“Pretty sure one of my last foster brothers was a drug dealer, shouldn’t be too hard to get.” He stepped aside and gestured for them to enter. They crept inside, peering around; not that there was much to see- both bedroom doors were closed and the walls of the tiny kitchen were blank white.

“It’s cleaner than I expected,” Pidge said.

“Fuck off,” Keith said, feeling like a broken record. “Hunk, don’t open that,” he ordered, seeing the other boy with his hand on Shiro’s doorknob. “That’s Shiro’s room. C’mon.” He led them over to his door and pushed it open.

“Okay, this is definitely cleaner than I expected,” Pidge said in shock.

“Dude, you sure this is your room?” Lance pushed his way in and swiveled his head, staring at everything. “It barely looks like anyone lives here.”

“I like things clean,” he huffed.

“Yet you shower like, once a week.”

“Fuck. Off,” Keith growled.

“You don’t even have any posters or anything,” Hunk said in wonder.

“I don’t need them. Anyway, you guys can sit… wherever you can find a spot.” Keith gestured at his bed, desk chair, and the newly acquired beanbag at the foot of his bed that he had found on a visit to the thrift store with Shiro.

“Why do you have a stop sign nailed to your wall?” Lance asked, dropping his body into the beanbag in a movement similar to a trustfall.

“Wanted it. Stole it,” Keith said with a shrug, sitting next to Pidge on the bed.

Hunk shook his head as he took the remaining seat, the desk chair. “Stealing is bad.”

“You stole a stop sign? That’s government property, and a felony,” Pidge said.

“You hacked into government computers, asshole. I don’t wanna hear shit from you.” Keith narrowed his eyes and pointed at her. She let out a barking laugh.

“How’d you find out the specifics?”

“I know your brother, genius.”

“True.”

“Shiro is at his place now,” Keith told her.

“Having trouble with his roommate?”

“Yeah.” He pulled out his phone and connected it to the small bluetooth speaker sitting on his desk, playing an indie station on Spotify at a low volume. “Ghosting” by Mother Mother started playing and he drummed his fingers against the edge of his textbook.

“No offense, but your music taste kinda sucks Keith.”

Keith looked up in confusion at Lance, who currently resembled a starfish and was already halfway falling off the beanbag. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, sorry. It sounds like that hipster shit that artist always plays at like, one in the morning when I’m trying to work. Makes me irritated just to hear it.”

Pidge perked up as Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. Hunk quickly glanced between all of them before starting to wring his hands together.

“You mean like the annoying pop princess who blasts Beyonce and Britney Spears and god-knows-what else at one in the morning in the dance studio?”

“Oh no,” Hunk said quietly. “I knew it was too good to be true-“

“I don’t- wait, how do you know what I listen to in the studio?” Lance rolled over onto his stomach and propped his chin up on his hands, making what Keith had to admit was a very, very dumb expression.

“Because you always play your pop shit so fucking loud-“

“How would you-“

“When I’m just trying to fucking paint!”

Lance’s eyes popped open before his mouth fell open. “Oh my fucking god, you’re the emo art student that always plays indie shit really loud, aren’t you?”

“Only because you always blast your shit!”

“I’m a dancer! It has to be loud!”

“No it doesn’t! And you don’t have to turn it up every three seconds, and maybe, just maybe, you could at least play a song for more than forty seconds if you’re going to play it that loud!”

“If you don’t like it you could always wear headphones or go in at a normal time!”

“No, I can’t!”

“Yes you can!”

“No, I _can’t_!”

“Why not?”

Keith raked a hand through his hair before ripping off one of his gloves and throwing it at Lance’s face. It hit its target with a satisfying _thwack_ and not even a full second later, Lance let out a wail as if he’d been mauled by a cougar. Hunk continued to fret, eyes darting back and forth like he was watching a tennis match while Pidge’s cackling grew in both intensity and volume.

“I can’t believe this whole time, you two have been bitching about each other’s music while still managing to meet, start dating, and even discuss your hobbies without figuring this out before now.” Pidge took off her glasses and shook her head.

“You _knew_?” Lance shrieked. “For how long?”

“A few weeks, ever since Keith mentioned not being able to work because of a pop diva in the dance studio next door.”

“And you didn’t say _anything_ this entire time?” Keith asked, eyes narrowed with a multitude of unspoken accusations and complaints.

“No, I figured it’d be funnier that way.”

“You’re the _hugest_ piece of shit I have ever met!” Lance hissed at Pidge, yanking his headphones out of his pocket. “Keith I like you but I can not put up with your music right now. Someone get my attention when it’s turned off.”

Keith huffed and scribbled down one of the answers on his study guide with more force than necessary, snapping the tip of his pencil. He growled and tossed it onto his desk, startling poor Hunk.

“Uh… I work better in silence, and your frustrated noises are kinda freaking me out buddy, so I’m just gonna…” He reached up and took the hearing aids out of his ears, placing them on Keith’s desk before flashing Keith a thumbs up and returning to his work.

“And then there were two,” Pidge said ominously.

“I’m mad at you.”

“Cool. Help me with this math problem?”

The two of them were in the same math course, albeit at different times, so their study guides were the same. They put their heads close together, managing to work diligently for over half an hour.

“I’m bored,” she finally announced. “Can I see your tattoos again?”

He shrugged and lifted up a pants leg to show her the eye on the inside of his ankle, since it was closest. She hummed and poked at it.

“Did it hurt?”

“I mean, it stung a little, but not really.”

“Would you do one to me if I asked?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I mean… yeah, if you’re sure you want one. When?”

“How about right now?”

The other eyebrow shot up to join its mate. “Uh…are you sure?”

“Yeah, totally. That is, if you’re ok with doing it.”

“Sure, I guess.” He hopped off the bed to cross the room to his drawers, digging through the top one until he found what he was looking for- a plastic fliptop pencil case, similar to the ones he saw other kids using in elementary school. He pushed the drawer shut and turned to rejoin Pidge, snorting when he saw Lance sprawled out on the beanbag, limbs so long that he was halfway on the floor, and clearly asleep.

“He’s studying real hard,” Keith said, rolling his eyes.

She chuckled. “Cut him some slack, he hasn’t been sleeping well.”

“Whatever, it’s his time anyway. Not like I can make him study. So, on to business- what do you want?”

“I want an alien head on the outside of my ankle,” she said firmly. He knew any arguing with her would be futile; it was obviously something she had been thinking of already, and it wasn’t like it was out of his skill range.

“Ok, sure, whatever. Gimme your leg and lift up your pants.” She obeyed, watching him intently as he got all of his materials together. “Now, hold the ink.” He passed her the tiny cup, which she took with small, shaking fingers. “Please don’t spill it on my bed.”

“Roger.”

“Who’s Roger?”

“It- It’s just a phrase. Anyway, let’s do this.”

Keith held the makeshift tattoo gear over her skin, hesitating for a second before quickly plunging it into her ankle, moving swiftly to get in a rough dotted outline of the alien head. She sucked in a quick breath when the needle pierced her skin but quickly released it, watching in awe as Keith poked around.

“It’s not that bad,” she said, a note of surprise in her voice.

“It’ll get a little worse, but not by much. Told you it just stung a little.” He felt his tongue slip out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, starting to fill in a section of the outline. He tried to be efficient, making the straightest, least wobbly line in the fastest amount of time possible. He knew, of course, that it was probably going to turn out a tad blurry, but he would do what he could to amend that.

“My parents are going to kill me,” she said, sounding not the least bit concerned. “And my brother is gonna be so mad that he didn’t think of this first.”

Keith laughed. “Honestly, I considered buying a tattoo gun online and giving cheap secret tattoos to college students. There’s probably a repercussion in there somewhere, but-“ he paused to shrug. “Free money from pseudo-edgy white kids who wanna do stuff under their parents’ noses.”

Pidge let out a snort but was careful not to twitch her leg. “That’s a smart idea. I think you should do it. Speaking of psuedo-edgy white kids; real-edgy non-white kid, what are you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You ask that like you’re asking what species I am.”

“I should be,” she wheezed. “You’re barely human. But like, I only ask because you look Asian, but not entirely Asian? And I guess I’m just kind of curious. You know how I am.”

“Sadly, I do know how you are. But to answer your question, I’m Korean-Mexican.”

“Oh, really? Lance is-“

“Cuban, I know. But they’re not the same thing. Plus, my mom was the Mexican one and didn’t have any living family, so it’s not like I got a chance to be immersed in the culture or whatever.”

“Did you experience a lot of Korean culture?” Pidge asked, twisting to try and get a better angle on the tattoo.

“Sit still. And my dad taught me curse words, if that counts. His parents were the ones who were big on culture and all that, and they weren’t really interested in teaching me, since, well… they didn’t really consider me Korean.” He shrugged again. “What about you, Whitey?”

She snorted. “Don’t let my pale skin fool you- my mom is Jewish and my dad is Italian. Somehow we all just ended up really white, I dunno. But we take trips to Italy almost every summer to go visit my grandparents and cousins and stuff. We kinda stick out like sore thumbs though, since almost everyone else tans really well and has darker hair, and me and my brother are basically gingers. Got our looks from our mom.”

“Shiro says you and Matt are the spitting image of her.”

“And each other. Do you know how many times we’ve been mistaken for twins?”

“I feel that- people seem to think that just because Shiro and I are close and both Asian, we must be brothers, or related in some way.”

“You guys sure act like brothers.”

Keith smiled at that. He certainly had grown much closer with Shiro than when they first met. He had been closed off, unreceptive to Shiro’s attempts at being friendly, and also somewhat confused on his feelings towards the other man. “I had a crush on him at first,” he admitted to Pidge.

“Who hasn’t? He’s hot as hell. He’s built like a sexy truck.”

Keith let out a loud laugh, causing Lance to twitch in his sleep but otherwise not wake up. “A sexy truck?”

“Yup. But I mean it when I say everyone has had a crush on him at some point. He and my brother even tried dating for a few weeks once.”

“When?” Keith said, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. “Shiro and Allura have been together for like, years.”

“Back when we were hosting him.”

“Hosting him?”

“Yeah, he’s an exchange student from Japan.”

“I knew that, but what do you mean you hosted him?”

“Like, he moved over to America in his freshman year of high school through school programs and my family volunteered to house him. He lived with us for like, almost five years. Then he came to college, dropped out to go military, and uh… well, you saw how that turned out. Took a couple of years off while he went through rehab and everything and moved back in with my parents, took odd jobs around town and helped my dad out in the lab. He decided he was ready to try school again when it was close to time for me to head out too, so he reapplied here, I applied, Matt had already been here, and we all got in. Shiro and Matt were roommates last year, I was stuck over in Sincline with five giggling dumbasses, and now here we are.”

“Five roommates?” Keith asked in horror.

“Well, two roommates. Two bedrooms, three girls in each. They uh… weren’t too fond of me after they realized I had a dick.” She gave Keith a wry smile. “After that the other two girls started hanging out in the other room a lot, so I had a lot of time to myself, thank god. Not like I liked them and wanted to hang out anyway.”

“My last roommate was an asshole too,” Keith said sympathetically. “He was always trying to throw parties and shit- like, first of all, I’m trying to study, at least warn me before you pull that shit. Secondly, our room was way too small. You could barely fit us in it.”

“What building?”

“Daibazal,” Keith said with disgust.

“Oh jesus, that’s the worst dorm.”

“It was the cheapest,” he explained. “But-“ He was cut short by a shriek from Hunk.

“What are you doing?” He yelled, pointing at the two of them. They both stared at him with blank faces.

“Uh, what do you mean, buddy?” Pidge asked. Keith noticed she was enunciating her words just a bit more- probably trying to make it a little easier for Hunk to read her lips? He still didn’t have his hearing aids in.

“The, the, the needle! And your ankle! What are you doing?”

Keith looked down and realized Hunk’s reaction wasn’t as unsolicited as he thought. The poor guy likely wasn’t expecting to turn around from studying and see Keith brandishing a needle and Pidge with a slightly swollen ankle and a half finished tattoo.

“She wanted a tattoo,” he said before bending over and resuming his work. Pidge gave a slight wince. Regardless, she grinned at Hunk and shot him a thumbs up.

“You want one too, buddy?”

“Absolutely not. This is so dangerous, you’re just hanging out in his bed getting a tattoo, it’s not a sterile environment, I don’t even know if the needle is sterile, plus that is not a safe way to give a tattoo, what kind of needle even is that? And is the ink safe for your skin? Please tell me you didn’t just empty a pen in to a cup or something-“

“Hunk, buddy, calm down,” Pidge laughed, reaching out a hand as if she was going to pat his shoulder from across the room. “Keith knows what he’s doing. This is a brand new needle that I watched him sanitize, fresh tattoo quality ink, and he cleaned off my ankle too.”

“I’m not stupid,” he grumbled, starting the outline of the eyes now that the head shape was finished. “I told everyone that I’ve done this before.”

“Well, still. I’m worried.”

“You’re always worried. Hey, how long has it been since Lance went to sleep?”

“I don’t know, an hour?”

“Time to wake him up then.” Pidge held up a hand so Keith would pause before grabbing one of his pillows and leaning over the foot of the bed. She stared down at him for a moment before rearing back and walloping him in the face with the stolen pillow.

He let out a loud grunt and shot upright, head swiveling as he looked around him and tore out his earbuds. “I was awake! What’s up?”

“You said to never let you nap for over an hour. It’s been an hour.” Pidge dropped the pillow on his head and returned to her spot on the bed, motioning for Keith to continue with the tattooing.

“Oh… thanks, Pidgey. Get much studying done?”

“Hah! No. Keith is giving me a tattoo though.”

Intrigued, Lance rose to his knees and peered over the edge of the bed. “Whoa, that’s sick. What’s it gonna be?”

“Alien head.”

“Why am I not surprised?” He let out a huff of breath through his nose. “Speaking of surprises, Keith… your lip piercing looks good. Uh, really good.”

“Thanks,” he said, hyperfocused on finishing Pidge’s tattoo.

“Uh, I was wondering… could I maybe see the bellybutton one since I’m over?”

“I’m busy,” he grunted.

“Wasted,” Pidge bellowed. Lance pouted and sunk back down into the beanbag.

Keith sighed and rolled his eyes. “Later. I’m busy and you should be studying.”

That brightened him up; he took out a textbook and started flipping through the review guides that were at the back of it, squinting and angling the book closer to his face.

“Lance, can you see that book?” Hunk turned in his chair to address the other boy, pushing his hearing aids back in.

“Nope,” he said gleefully. “Forgot my contacts this morning.” He shrugged and leaned in even closer, peering down the bridge of his nose.

“What would you do without me,” Hunk muttered, digging a glasses case out of his bag. “Here.”

“But-“ he glanced at the case, then back over at Keith.

“Lance, for god’s sakes, Keith is not going to care if you wear glasses.” Pidge rolled her eyes. “Do you really think he’s that vain?”

“Nope, glasses are _totally_ disgusting,” Keith drawled. “Looking at Pidge’s face makes me wanna barf because she wears them.”

Pidge snorted. “See? Listen to that sarcasm. Just put them on so you can see, genius.”

He mumbled something about looking dumb before taking the case and sliding the frames on his face. Keith looked up, curious to see what Lance looked like with them on, and swore that his heart stopped.

He was cute. He was really, really cute. Keith ducked his head before anyone could notice the pink creeping across his cheeks and ears.

He finished Pidge’s tattoo amongst amiable chatter. He sat back and looked at it proudly- it was probably the cleanest lines he had ever done on a stick and poke.

“Keith, this looks fucking awesome,” Pidge gushed. Lance and Hunk ooh’d and aah’d over it as well.

“I still wouldn’t let you do it to me, no offense. If I’m gonna get tattoos I’d like them done with a gun, and not with a sewing needle or whatever,” Hunk said.

“I dunno,” Lance said, plopping onto Hunk’s lap and reading over some of his notes. “I’d be open to it.”

Keith smiled at Lance and did his best not to break into red patches again.

“Anyway, we should all get back to work,” Pidge said, clapping her hands together.

“I’ve been working the whole time,” Hunk mumbled, soundly vaguely agitated. “Lance, buddy, just take my notes and move back to the beanbag.” Lance grinned sheepishly at him and swiped the packet of paper from Keith’s desk and it wasn’t long before they all resumed their vigorous studying.

Keith started humming under his breath without realizing it, causing Pidge some confusion,

“Uh, are you humming Old MacDonald?”

Keith scratched at the back of his neck. “I mean… not exactly. It’s… it is to the tune of it, yeah.”

“If it’s not Old MacDonald then what is it?”

The room was silent for a few beats before Keith finally sang out:

“I’m so stressed that sunlight hurts, I am God’s mistake.”

There was another moment of silence before the trio burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Where the fuck did you come up with that?”

“I read it on Twitter and it’s been stuck in my head ever since,” Keith mumbled, looking down at his lap.

“I love it, oh my fuck,” Pidge wheezed. “It’s perfect, it’s absolutely perfect.”

Relieved that none of them thought he was stupid, he continued chanting it as he tried to work through a difficult problem on his worksheet. The others quickly picked it up as they struggled with their own work, and it wasn’t long before they were all shrieking it in unison.

When Shiro finally came home from hanging out with Matt, he was too scared to open the door to a room full of barely-adults screaming “I’m so stressed that sunlight hurts, I am God’s mistake!” It honestly wasn’t the weirdest thing he had heard in college, and it didn’t sound like anyone was dying or injured, therefore it wasn’t his responsibility. He shook his head and unclipped Lulu’s leash before disappearing into his own room, relieved that Keith was finally bonding with other people, even if the circumstances were a little… strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw the next 2 chapters might take a little longer to come out because theyre both longer chapters as well, especially chapter 15.  
> look forward to ch 15!!! its the overdue "holiday special" and its already really long and i think you guys are really gonna like it, it especially moves the plot forward.  
> PS @rhye lmao u deadass thought i was gonna forget about the music thing heres part of ur longawaited solution to that


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance have a Bonding Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> urghurhg long wait again im sorry i promise ill do better the new semester is kicking my ass tbh i really hate college

_Keith: come to the art studio_

He sighed and thumped his head into the wall behind him before crossing his legs and pulling them in close to his body. It was just past midnight, but Lance was definitely awake; the two of them had just gotten off the phone. It had been a hushed conversation, Lance sitting on his bathroom floor with the door shut so as not to wake up Hunk and Pidge while he talked, surprisingly and uncharacteristically quiet. It was… nice. Different, but definitely nice. Despite how late it was and how little sleep Lance had gotten the night before, he didn’t sound tired in the slightest when he was on the phone with Keith. Well, it wasn’t that he didn’t sound tired; he sounded rundown, but too keyed up to actually sleep.

_Lance: u sure??? ik you dont really like people in there_

_Keith: I want to show you my art. And I want to be with you right now. It’s not like either one of us is going to be sleeping any time soon._

_Lance: ok. I’ll put on my coat and I’ll be there in a few mins_

“Echoes” by Lauren Aquilina came on over the studio speakers, playing softly, a strange blend of nostalgia and melancholy. He closed his eyes and relaxed, halfway tempted to sprawl out on his back across the concrete floor.

“Your music is a lot better today. This is nice.”

He slitted his eyes to see Lance standing in the doorway, the fluorescent light from the hallway giving him a glowing halo around his body. The light Keith could see was harsh; he only had the warm studio lights on inside, none of the stark brightness that he normally worked in.

“I figured you’d like this better. Come in and shut the door.” He wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his head on his knees. The music transitioned into “Fools” by Troye Sivan and an involuntary shiver ripped its way up his spine; that man’s voice and music always gave Keith chills. Additionally, he couldn’t think of gayer, more fitting music for he and Lance spending time together, alone, in the middle of the night.

“Wanna come sit with me for a while?” He kept his voice and his eyes low; he had been trying to take things slow with Lance, but he couldn’t deny that there was definitely something between them, something different from what he had experienced before. For once his social ineptness and anxiety weren’t getting the best of him, and Keith was going to be damned if he didn’t take advantage of the situation and follow his gut instincts.

“Of course,” Lance said, voice still quiet despite the fact that there was no one in the adjoining room to worry about waking up. Keith had a suspicion that they were having similar feelings; it was simply one of those nights, one of the nights filled with husky voices and lingering brushes of the hand, whispered secrets and quiet snatches of laughter. Keith supposed most people would call it romantic, but it didn’t even begin to cover it.

Keith shifted closer to Lance, stretching out his legs and letting their thighs press together. They both looked up and smiled at each other almost simultaneously.

“This is different,” Lance said, eyeing the lack of space between them. “Everything okay? You’re not going to like… fuck me and then break up with me, right?”

“Of course not,” he said, voice cracking, although he wasn’t sure if it was from the shock of emotion or the deepening of his voice from hormones. “I am definitely not planning a breakup. And sorry, but there’s no fucking tonight, either.” He smiled wryly and reached up to push his bangs back.

“You always look so pretty when you push your hair back like that,” Lance said, quick and breathless, as if he wanted to get the words out before he could rethink them. Keith’s face warmed and he bit his lip.

“You don’t mean that in a bad way? Like… I don’t look like… like a girl, right?”

“No,” Lance said, obviously confused. His brow furrowed down and the little crevice that only showed when he was worried made an appearance. Without letting himself make the conscious decision, Keith stretched out his hand and rubbed his thumb over the spot. “Besides, you can be pretty without being or looking like a girl.” He pulled Keith’s hand away and twined their fingers together- the lack of gloves didn’t escape his notice, either, even if Keith didn’t seem to be reacting any differently. “I…” He blinked several times and Keith watched in fascination as his eyelashes, long and nearly blonde at the end from time in the sun, fluttered with the motion. “I think you’re beautiful,” he confessed, risking a bashful look up at Keith.

Keith sucked in a breath. He didn’t notice when the song changed to “Bite”, but the drop of the bass startled him. He jolted and looked up as if he expected to see the Gay Music Messiah standing over the two boys and chanting encouragement.

“Thank you,” he said quietly to Lance, unsure of how to respond. No one had ever told him he was beautiful, not like this. When he started his transition his foster parents at the time would use his “beauty” against him, telling him “but you’re such a beautiful girl!” He had also had drunk men use the phrase on him as well, saying things like “God, you’re so beautiful-“ but it always ended with something like “I’d love to take you home.” Part of his brain stalled, waiting to hear the catch, but one didn’t come.

His heart pounded and the palms of his hand became clammy. Being with Lance, especially like this, reminded Keith of the times he went cliff-diving in high school. Much more of a reckless daredevil and desperate to prove himself as a real man, as well as get a high off the adrenaline, he would hop in the bed of a pickup truck with some of the local outcasts and speed down the highway at too high of a speed. They’d park the truck just off the road, trek their way through the woods, and throw themselves off the cliff into the water below.

The whole experience made him feel alive. Lance made him feel alive. He was exactly like those days, but instead of running away from something Keith felt like he had something, or rather, someone, to run to.

Lance was the adrenaline rush Keith had always been searching for. Being with him, even if they were just sitting on a chipped concrete floor in a paint stained room, was like the wind tearing through Keith’s hair and forming tears in his eyes, stealing them away before they could even stain his face. He was like standing at the cliffs, teetering and toes hanging off the edge as the water churned and rolled below him- dangerous and unknown, but Keith knew once he plunged and broke the surface it would wrap around him like a comforting embrace, a brief escape from everything going on around him.

It was time to start taking dives again.

“Lance-“ he started, voice catching and breaking on his name. They locked eyes and he felt like Lance had reached right into his chest and ripped the breath out of his lungs. Fuck, his eyes- even his eyes reminded him of the cliffs. They were muted and there was something lurking just beneath the surface, a promise, but a promise of what, Keith wasn’t sure. It was even more like than that, though. Any time Keith had looked at Lance’s eyes, he always thought of the ocean. Changing with his moods, just like the tides of the water changed with the weather, they never looked the same. But now that Keith was up close, he saw it was even more than that.

Lance’s eyes were dark and vast, inviting. Without words, they spoke of adventure and limitless possibilities. He realized now how stupid he had been to think Lance’s eyes were simply like the water: they were like space, the night sky.

Normally he would kick his own ass for thinking such sappy things, letting himself get caught up in the moment like he was some overly-hopeful kid, dreaming of intimacy and love and god-knows-what else. This time, though, he knew _why_ people talked the way they did about love, and now he knew what it really meant to be starstruck.

“Yes?” Lance finally asked, the word barely more than a breath between them. He watched Keith carefully, waiting, wondering.

“I think I wanna kiss you,” Keith whispered, staring at Lance’s mouth as ice shot through his veins. Lance’s lips parted as he stared back at Keith.

“Are… are you sure?” Despite his question, he still reached out to cup Keith’s face with his hand, trailing the tips of his fingers against his jaw. Keith watched his head tilt and his eyes flicker downwards. “I know that you’re… not normally very physical.”

“I want this,” he confirmed. “I want this,” he repeated, lower in tone, before closing the distance between the two of them.

Keith hadn’t kissed anyone in almost three years, but none of the kisses he had experienced before could hold a candle to this. He could taste Lance’s breath washing over him, cool and sweet from whatever he had been eating earlier. He let out a sigh as they moved their lips together, let his hands grab onto Lance’s sides and cling tightly to his shirt. He thought he heard Lance whisper Keith’s name into the kiss, but he couldn’t be sure. His head was spinning wildly, making him dizzy, although part of that might have been from how heavy he was breathing. Lance’s hand trailed from his face to the back of his neck, gently twining into the underside of his hair while the other hand ran up his spine. Even with the fabric of Keith’s thin turtleneck between them, sparks danced across the skin of his back.

They separated, gasping, but still clinging to each other. Keith’s eyes flickered over Lance’s face, wild and unable to focus on one spot. “Wow,” Lance said quietly. _Wow_ didn’t even begin to describe it.

“Why’d you stop?” Keith asked, twisting his fingers into the fabric of Lance’s shirt. He was nervous that he somehow messed up yet still excited by their close proximity. His heart pounded like a jackrabbit’s.

“Couldn’t breathe,” Lance said with a laugh, running his hand through Keith’s hair. “I thought I was gonna pass out if we didn’t stop for a second.”

Keith ducked his head with a grin, bangs falling into his face. “Do you want to see some of my art? That is why I invited you, after all.”

Lance perked up, still trailing his fingers against Keith’s scalp and back. “I would love to. I’ve been dying to see it.”

“You’re going to have to let go of me, then.”

Lance pouted but slowly pulled his hands away, trailing one across Keith’s neck while the other brushed against his side. Keith stood despite the protests of both his mind and his legs before offering a hand to Lance and helping him up. He motioned for Lance to stay where he was before disappearing into the side room where all of the students stored their work in cubbies.

Lance was still in the middle of the studio when Keith returned with his arms full of canvases, peering at the walls around him even though there wasn’t much to see besides the stains and drips of past projects.

“Oh wow,” he said when he turned back to Keith and caught sight of the pile. “That’s a lot.”

“Is it too much? I’ve never worked much with paint before, but I did a lot of it this semester. I didn’t know what you’d like the most so I brought it all.”

“No, this is perfect,” Lance assured him. “It’s perfect, I promise.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Keith pulled away, breath short and harsh, unable to keep his eyes off of Lance. Normally so perfect and put-together, he had finally lost some of his composure. If Keith was being honest, he looked like a wreck; but in a good way, a way that made Keith’s chest smolder and his stomach grow warm.

“Don’t go home tonight.”

Lance looked at him, puzzled. “What, are we just going to stay here and make out all night?” He tried to maintain an air of casualness but failed miserably; his wild eyes, reddened lips, and heaving chest gave him away.

“Come back to my room,” Keith whispered, trailing his hand down Lance’s arm.

Lance’s eyes widened in shock and a powerful feeling washed over Keith. “I… I thought you said…”

Keith’s own words from earlier rang in his mind- _sorry, but there’s no fucking tonight, either._ He had meant it, and if he forced his mind to slow down, he still meant it. However, there was something intoxicating about being with Lance- being close to him, kissing him, listening to the sounds he made. “I just wanna sleep with you,” he confessed.

“But-“

“ _Just_ sleep,” Keith clarified. “I… I like it when you hold me like this, and I… I don’t wanna go back to my room and be by myself tonight.”

Lance’s face softened and he reached out to stroke Keith’s cheek with his thumb. “You’re okay, right?”

“I’m good. Just don’t wanna be alone. You make me feel…” He trailed off, not sure if he had the words to clarify even if he wanted to.

“Yeah,” Lance said, voice breathy. “Yeah, I get it. I’ll come back with you. Are you sure that you’re good with this?”

“As long as you are.”

“What about Shiro?”

“What about him?”

“Well I mean, won’t he think that… that we had sex or something?”

Keith rolled his eyes before shaking his head. “No, he’ll know better. Besides, even if he did, it’s not a big deal. I walked in on him sending a dick pic to Allura last week.”

Lance snorted and buried his face in Keith’s hair. “That seems so unlike him.”

“Hey, he’s 26, cut him some slack.”

“And I’m 19.”

Keith’s eyebrows raised. “You’re only 19?”

“Uh, yeah? I thought you knew that.”

“I thought you were my age.”

“How old are you?”

“I turned 21 in October,” Keith said, absentmindedly running his fingers through the sides of Lance’s hair. “I mentioned that when you guys came over to study a couple days ago.”

“Sorry, guess I didn’t notice. You’re ancient,” he teased. “Buy me booze, get me drunk and take me home.”

“Don’t need to get you drunk to take you home, evidently.” Keith let out a husky laugh that sent dangerous ripples of want pulsing through Lance’s gut. “Besides, booze isn’t that great.”

“That’s what you think.”

“That’s what I _know._ I was fourteen the first time I drank.”

“Hardcore,” Lance murmured before leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth. “Does a sip of wine from my mom’s glass on New Year’s when I was twelve count as drinking?”

“No,” Keith laughed, cupping the sides of Lance’s face and pulling away from him. “When I say the first time I drank, I mean that I got blackout drunk off of Bacardi and woke up in a puddle of my own puke.”

Lance wrinkled his nose. “Wow, intense. Moodkiller.”

“Sorry,” Keith said, leaning in to brush his thumb against Lance’s bottom lip. Instantly the other boy’s eyes glazed, making them look like cloudy skies. “Is your mood too dead to keep kissing me?”

“Absolutely not,” he breathed out before closing the distance between them. Plans to leave temporarily forgotten, they kissed for the next several minutes, mouths slotting together and tongues hesitantly brushing against each other amid soft gasps and puffs of breath.

“Okay, okay,” Lance wheezed, pulling away. “I’m gonna be real with you, we should probably stop or I’m gonna cream my pants.”

Keith snorted and pushed at Lance’s chest. “You’re awful. So… back to my place?”

“Yeah.” He ran his fingers through Keith’s hair, pushing his bangs back.

They rose and clasped hands, Lance letting Keith turn out the lights and lead him out of the room.

It was a beautiful night; or rather, morning, since it was somewhere near 3 A.M. The sky was clear and the air was dry. There was a chill, but nowhere near as biting as it had been in the past several days. They stayed quiet, both finally tired and having run out of things to say for the time, and their fingers stayed linked together for the entirety of the walk.

Keith put his finger to his lips when they reached the outside of his dorm door, indicating that Lance needed to be quiet. He waited for Lance to nod in agreement before he slipped his key into the lock and pushed open the door.

Shiro’s door was only half closed. He was on his bed, back propped up against the wall and snoring softly, the dim light of his laptop’s screensaver illuminating the lower half of his face and the raised scars across his chest. He must have fallen asleep while working on something and waiting for Keith to get back. Lulu was a mound of fur at the foot of his bed, eyes glinting in the dark before she raised her head to stare at Keith and sniff the air a few times.

Keith gently pulled Shiro’s door so that it was only open by a sliver, not wanting to risk the noise of the latch waking Shiro up. He turned and motioned for Lance to follow him before creeping into his room. He waited until Lance came inside to close the door behind them and turn on the light.

“Shiro’s a light sleeper,” Keith explained in a low voice. “So we have to be quiet.”

“Well I guess it’s a good thing we _aren’t_ having sex then,” Lance joked. “Got any pajama pants I can borrow?”

Keith pulled open the top drawer of the tiny dresser under his bed, found a pair of sweatpants, and tossed them at Lance. “Will that work?”

“Yeah. I don’t suppose you have any face wash?”

“We have Nivea body wash and a bar of Dove soap in the bathroom for our hands.”

Lance made a miserable noise and dragged his hands over his face. “My routine is ruined,” he whined. “I’m gonna have a zit.”

“You’ll live,” Keith said callously, digging out a pair of basketball shorts and a baggy black t-shirt for himself to sleep in.

“Hey, Keith?” Lance asked. The tone of his voice made Keith stand up straight, body tense. Even with two words, Keith could hear the high, borderline panicked tone in Lance’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“You’re, uh, you’re not like, into drugs or anything are you?”

Keith wanted to snort but it was obvious that for some reason it was an honest concern to Lance. “No. Why the hell would you think that?”

Wordlessly, the other boy pointed at Keith’s desk.

Oh _shit._

Keith had forgotten that he had a slew of syringes and a half full bottle of testosterone lined up neatly on the center of the wood surface.

“Okay, this is going to sound like every drug addict’s response but _it’s not what it looks like._ ”

“I mean, I understand that sometimes life can-“

“Lance-“

“And that’s okay-“

“Lan-“

“And there’s resources to get help-“

“It’s testosterone!” Keith shouted over Lance. Lance stopped and looked at him, mouth still open from whatever he had been about to say.

“You don’t look like a bodybuilder,” Lance finally blurted.

“Bodybu- what? Lance, no. It’s _testosterone_ , not steroids. Y’know, like… like hormone replacement therapy?”

“It’s… you’re doing HRT?”

“Yes,” Keith said with a sigh, rubbing his face with his hand. “This is not how I wanted to tell you that…”

“That you’re trans,” Lance finished.

“Yeah. That. I was going to tell you after finals, but I guess now is a good time?” He pushed his hair out of his face.

“Why would you think you have to tell me?” Lance asked, approaching Keith.

“I mean, we’re dating. I don’t want you to think that… that I’m like, trapping you or something,” Keith mumbled. “I didn’t want things to keep going and then down the road be like, _surprise!_ ”

“Okay, first of all, rude. I’m bi, so I don’t care what you have going on downstairs. Secondly, you don’t have to come out to anyone because you aren’t a trap, you’re a man. And thirdly, do you really think I’d care?”

Keith shrugged, eyes locked on the glass vial sitting so innocently on his desk. “I dunno.”

“Pidge is trans and she’s one of my best friends.”

“Yeah, but you’re not dating her. It’s differently to be so closely involved with someone going through a transition. Things get weird.”

“Okay, I live with Pidge. Can’t get a hell of a lot closer than that. The only thing I can think of that’s closer than that would be maybe growing up with your twin coming out and transitioning when you were teenagers, which, oh, wait, I went through that too.” He smiled smugly. “It doesn’t get weirder than watching someone who has your _face_ growing a pair of boobs.”

“You have a twin sister?” Keith asked dumbly, mind reeling from the new information.

“I have several sisters. And brothers. And cousins and nieces and nephews. But all that is besides the point. The point I’m trying to make here is that you shouldn’t feel obligated to come out to anyone, and also, like I said, I don’t care. I’ve always known you as Keith, and you always will be Keith, simple as that.” He pulled Keith into a tight hug. “And I’m really sorry that I had to find out when you weren’t expecting it and that you couldn’t do things on your own terms. That really, _really_ sucks. But hey, it’s out of the way now, right?”

“Right,” Keith repeated, fighting to keep his brain functioning through the wave of bliss and relief that was threatening to overtake it. “God, you seem like such a douche on the surface, how did you end up so nice?”

Lance made an offended noise and pulled away from Keith. “I do _not_ come off as a douche. You’re a douche.”

“Whatever,” Keith grumbled, extracting himself from Lance’s hug. “I gotta pee. I’ll be back.” He grabbed his bundle of clothes and backed out of the room, making sure that he was quiet as he left. He could still hear Shiro’s gentle snores as he passed the other man’s room and ducked into the bathroom.

He stayed in the tiny room longer than he needed to, staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink after he had changed. His shirt was baggy, but it was still obvious that he wasn’t wearing a binder underneath it. His heart beat erratically before he shook his head and turned away. Lance didn’t care. Besides, Keith couldn’t sleep in his binder anyway; he had already been wearing it for too long and his back was starting to ache from it. He yawned as he walked back to his room, ready to crawl into bed and be blissfully unconscious for the next several hours with a warm body next to him.

Lance had his back to the door when Keith came in, already in the borrowed pair of sweatpants, shirtless, and stretching his arms above his head. His fingers reached up towards the ceiling as Keith’s stomach dropped.

“Wow,” he whispered without meaning to. Lance turned around, a quizzical smile on his face.

“Wow, what?” He asked.

“You,” Keith admitted.

Lance’s cheeks gained a dusting of pink as a grin stretched across his face. “Thanks. Don’t take this the wrong way, but with the hair and the basketball shorts you kinda look like an 8th grade lesbian.”

Keith let out an ugly snort and clapped his hand over his mouth. “Shut the fuck up,” he wheezed. “I’m trying not to wake Shiro up.”

“You’re so cute when you laugh,” Lance sighed happily, turning around and wrapping his arms around Keith. “I could listen to it all night.”

“Right now the only thing I want you to be listening to is my snores. I’m exhausted.”

“Let’s go to bed then. I think I’m finally calmed down enough to sleep.” He let out a yawn of his own.

They climbed into bed; first Lance, then Keith, curling up next to him and tucking himself under Lance’s chin. There were several minutes of tossing and turning, blanket yanking, and exasperated sighs, but finally they got settled down with Lance’s back pressed to Keith’s chest.

“Shouldn’t the taller one be the big spoon?” He mumbled.

“Shut up,” Keith answered, tightening his arms around Lance’s middle. “I like doing it like this. It’s comfortable.” He pressed his face against Lance’s back, burying his nose into the patch of skin between his shoulder blades. Lance let out a satisfied rumble, evidently not minding as much as it seemed.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke up, but he was aware of Lance’s blue eyes staring at him, much lighter than they were the night before due to the sunlight filtering in through Keith’s cheap blinds.

“Hey,” he said, corners of his eyes crinkling as he reached out to run his fingers down Keith’s cheek. “How did you sleep?”

“Good. Really, really good.” He twined their fingers together. “And you?”

“Amazing.” They continued to lie together in silence, Keith letting his eyes slip closed, still half-asleep as Lance continued to watch him.

Lance could hear someone in the kitchen opening and closing cabinets- probably Shiro, it only made sense since he lived here too. Keith’s breath grew heavier and a little slower. Lance watched his chest rise and fall every few seconds, tempted to rest his hand in the middle of Keith’s ribcage so he could feel the breaths as well.

The previous night ran through his head like a movie strip- seeing Keith’s art, kissing him, talking deeply and openly. One thing in particular, however, kept returning to plague him.

“Hey Keith?” he finally asked, biting his lip in worry.

“Hm?” Keith blinked groggily, cheek smushed into the pillows. God, he looked adorable. “What’s up?”

“You know how you told me last night about how you don’t really have anywhere to go for Christmas, and how you were going to pay and stay here?”

Keith’s sleepy smile fell from his face. “Yeah. What about it?”

“I uh… I wanted to ask… have you paid for the winter break yet?”

“No, I was going to do it today actually. Why?”

“I, um… I kind of wanted to ask before, but I was worried about seeming too pushy or like I was moving things forward too fast, but… do you want to come meet my family for the holidays?”

Keith sat up, hair frizzing out around his head like a lion’s mane. “Are you serious? You would really want me at your house for a month? That really seems like I’d be intruding.”

“Well, Hunk’s family lives right down the street so you could spend some time with him too. And Pidge’s family always loves having people over because it’s normally just the four of them, so maybe you could head up to Minnesota for a while too? I mean…” He reached down to twist his hands in the fabric of his shirt only to remember that he wasn’t wearing one. “We talked about it. But you don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. We just figured it’d be more fun for everyone, and cheaper too.”

Keith looked at Lance, staring owlishly while his eyes grew glassy. He blinked several times before reaching up to vigorously rub at his eyes with his fists. “I’d really like that,” he admitted. Lance chose to ignore the voice crack in the middle of his sentence. “I don’t want to ruin anyone’s holiday though…”

“Keith, did you listen to a word I just said?” He laughed. “Pidge’s family loves having people over for the holidays, and me and Hunk’s holidays always have tons of people over that sometimes we aren’t even sure who everyone is. One more person isn’t gonna kill us, we’d all love to have you.”

“I’m not huge on Christmas spirit,” Keith protested weakly.

“Good thing Pidge’s family celebrates Hanukkah, Hunk’s house normally focuses more on Yule and the solstice, and my family has more than enough Christmas cheer for everyone.” He rested his hand on top of Keith’s. “Come on. We want to spend the holidays with you, and I can tell you want to come with us anyway. Just say yes.”

Keith bit his lip. “I… I guess I better start packing my bags, then?”

Lance let out a loud shrieking whoop and threw the covers off of himself, digging around for his phone. “I gotta tell everyone! We’re gonna have so much fun, you can meet all my family, and-“ he gasped, cutting himself off. “We can do face masks every night!”

Keith groaned; what had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was so dreamy and lowkey emo idk what came over me while i was writing it but i really like how it turned out so //shrug emoji  
> but most importantly- THEY KISSED AAAA


	15. Chapter 15

Hurrdurr they had lots of sex and lived happily ever after  
Jk. April fools, etc  
Real talk though? The winter break chapters are not working for me right now. Its just.... Not happening.  
However, i am going to start writing for their next semester. There will be an update very soon (maybe a week?) And I will continue trudging on the winter break adventures in the background. Hopefully I will eventually be able to finish them and add them on as a side piece/optional read, as i very much want to finish them.  
While I'm at it I'm also going to try and go back and edit previous chapters together. I won't be changing anything, just fusing them together to cut down on the chapter count, and from here on I'll try to have chapters that are longer and not quite so choppy in pacing.  
Anyway, thank you everyone for being so patient with me!!! I hope to be able to post very soon :) and as always I'm always welcome to suggestions and I love comments, just like any other writer.

Also, this chapter will be taken out when I update for real lol


	16. Chapter 16

So full disclosure!   
Obviously this fic hasn't been updated in a while and im really sorry about that. I wont lie, things have been very rough for me lately.   
That being said... Id like to rewrite this fic. I know i can clean it up and do a lot better.   
So until i start posting the new version, this will remain up with the same name, but once i start uploading the new one ill rename this and probably archive it. I still have the original files but i don't really want to delete it since a lot of people still enjoyed it and i don't wanna take that away from them i guess???   
But the new one is gonna be.... A lot better. At least, i hope so lol.   
But....  
Thank you for reading! And for all the kudos and nice comments you guys gave me. I hope i can write something even better for all of you.


End file.
